Dream World: Book II
by TimeSpace64
Summary: The Monkees have lived their lives getting into trouble without meaning to. However, when a gypsy warns them about the three trials to come, will the Monkees survive? (Book 2 of 3) In this part, the Monkees must complete the trial in which they visit the present and change their current situation. Disclaimer: I do not own the Monkees, any music, or any of the characters.
1. Chapter 1- Hard to Believe

**_Previously..._**

"Well, seems like it is our turn for goodbyes," Mike pointed out. The Monkees walked up to the Monkees, adjacent to their counterpart. "Thank you so much, all three of you. We could not have done this without you."

"Yeah, if you didn't help us, we would still be wandering around L.A, completely and utterly lost," Micky added.

"Well, your welfare is important to us," **Peter** pointed out. "Considering you become us, we had to help you. We didn't want any of you dyin' so that _we_ couldn't exist."

"Fair," Mike smiled. "But thank you, anyways."

"Be careful," **Micky** said. "God only knows what is waiting for you inside that tent."

"We will," Mike assured them.

"And Davy," **Peter** added. "Don't go running off on them and drowning again."

Davy gave a shy chuckled. "I'll try not to, sir."

"Goodbye kids," **Mike** said.

"Goodbye," Davy said. He looked at each old man in turn. Their hearts were torn in half. They already lost one Davy, their Davy. Now it was time to lose another. They hid it well.

Each Monkee said their goodbye as they entered the tent. First Mike, then Micky, then Peter.

It was just Davy left. He turned to the old men once more. It pained him to see them this way. So old. So sad. So pained with the years on their shoulders. Davy gave them one last smile. "Goodbye mates," He said, as his older self did before him. "Goodbye." He too opened the tent flap, stepping inside the tent. When the flap closed, everything around him swirled into darkness. He felt himself slipping from consciousness. Fatigue overtook him. Then he was out like a light.

* * *

Chapter 1- Hard to Believe

With a yawn, the young Englishman awoke. His eyes peered up at the familiar ceiling above his bed. Rolling over, he saw the familiar bedroom he had been so accustomed to. In that room there were the three other beds, holding the three other men he had known so well. Davy smiled. They were finally home. Home sweet home. Davy cuddled his blankets and closed his eyes again, forgetting that they still had two more trials left to complete. Or at least he forgot until he heard Micky shouting from the doorway minutes later.

"Mike! Mike!" Micky screamed. Davy heard him run over to Mike's bed and yell at him some more.

"I'm tryin' to sleep, leave me alone," Mike mumbled, turning away from Micky.

"Mike, something's wrong with the pad! Or something's wrong with our bedroom!" Micky exclaimed.

"Micky, I'm sure it's fine," Mike mumbled again, desperately trying to go back to sleep.

"Mike, our bedroom is not in the pad," Micky tried to explain. "I opened the door and there was no pad! Just a hallway with another door across from our room. There's a set of stairs, but they're not our stairs! They're strait and carpet, not spiraly and metal!"

"Spiraly?" Mike asked, finally turning towards the drummer.

"I'm stressed out, give me a break," Micky said. "The rest of our house has disappeared."

Mike sighed, finally throwing off his covers and getting out of bed. Davy and Peter both did the same. The three followed Micky to the door, where he opened it to reveal a plain hallway with a door across from theirs, just as Micky has described. There was brown carpeting that traveled all the way down the stairs. Mike squeezed past and decided to open the door across from their room, revealing a modest bathroom. He dismissed it and went down the stairs, three paranoid Monkees following in his steps. When they reached the bottom, they found a velvet living room, its main theme brown. Two sofas pointed towards a cheap television, a coffee table sitting eloquently between them. An old lamp sat promptly near one sofa, while the other sofa sat in front of the window. Across the room there was the front door with a mirror and dresser next to it. When the boys turned the corner, they found the kitchen. Its theme was also brown. Very plain, but very clean. A sliding glass door presented itself in the kitchen, leading to the backyard, which had nothing except a tree and a high, wooden fence. The Monkees carefully explored the house, curiously touching things here and there. Davy had been the one daring enough to open the front door.

"Guys…" Davy called out to the others, "I don't think we're in California anymore."

The three Monkees raced to the front of the house to see what Davy was talking about. The sun was up, the sky was blue, and the houses on the street all looked exactly the same. Each house had a smaller fence containing the front yard, with a mailbox accompanying the front gate. The only thing that varied among the tan houses were the front yards and the people who moved about them. Across the street an old lady was tending to her rose bushes, a bright smile on her face. Next to their own yard, a man mowed his lawn, his face declaring he was less than happy to do the work. Some yards were overgrown with grass, others were trimmed and taken care of. Down the street a group of children ran, chasing after a ball. The ball bounced off the Monkees' mailbox and into their yard. The children all skidded to a halt outside their gate.

"Good morning Mr. Nesmith!" One of the boys yelled. "Can we have our ball back?"

All four Monkees were surprised at this. They knew their names? Well, they knew Mike's name, at least. Mike quietly left the house, walking over in his clothes from the 21st century, picking up the ball and tossing it to the children.

"Gee, thanks Mr. Nesmith!" Another boy called out.

"Mr. Nesmith? What will we be learning in class tomorrow?" A little girl asked. Mike's eyes widened at that one.

"What do you mean?" Mike couldn't help but ask.

"In science class tomorrow," The little girl explained. "What will we be doing in class tomorrow?"

"Uh…" Mike could hear the other three Monkees snicker behind him. "Physics?"

"Physics?" A boy asked. "But we just got done with photosynthesis! How does physics relate to photosynthesis?"

"I'll explain tomorrow," Mike told the children. "Go on and play now," He quickly turned and ran back in the house, shoving his bandmates inside and slamming the door shut.

"Oh boy Mike!" Micky laughed. "You're a _teacher_."

"I never asked to be one," Mike groaned. "What's going on?! Where are we?"

"I don't know," Davy mumbled.

"Well, wherever we are, we won't get anywhere looking like we're recovering from a hangover," Peter mentioned, motioning towards their dirty clothes. "We probably have some clothes upstairs."

"I call dibs on first shower!" Micky exclaimed, beginning his assent up the stairs.

Mike grabbed him by the arm and pulled him back. "I don't think so, Shotgun. This is what you get for throwin' dirt at Peter and I while diggin' up Davy's grave. Peter or Davy, why don't one of you go first?"

Davy offered the shower to Peter and Peter left, disappearing up the stairs. Once Mike heard the door shut, he let go of Micky and dusted his hands off. "Now while he's doing that, let's see if we can find any clues as to what we're doing here."

"And how we can go home," Davy added.

"Exactly. The quicker we complete this trial, the quicker we can go home," Mike agreed.

"Maybe we should find out what the date is first," Micky suggested. "Because we already did the future, so all that's left is the past and the present."

At this point Davy was already digging through the dresser near the front door. From one drawer he pulled out a pocketbook calendar. "This book says its 1966," He held it up for his friends to see. He then opened it and flipped through the pages. "Sunday, July 10, to be exact."

"Awe, we missed the Fourth of July," Micky moaned.

"That doesn't matter," Mike shook his head. "Come on, let's see what else we can find."


	2. Chapter 2- Pleasant Valley Sunday

Chapter 2- Pleasant Valley Sunday

 _ **Author's Note: Shout out to Lisa Boon who pointed out a plot hole in my previous chapter. I address it right away here, but thanks Lisa Boon for bringing it to my attention. I was originally going to go back into Chapter 1 and rewrite it, but I found something really cool about the randomly picked date I chose. Look it up. (Except 1967, not 1966. I left it as 1966 because it landed on a Sunday. There's a hint in the title of the chapter)**_

* * *

"Wait a minute!" Micky cried out, rummaging through a bookshelf. "Mike..."

"What?" Mike asked from the kitchen.

"Why are you teaching kids in July? Isn't school supposed to be out in the summer?"

"I don't know!" Mike exclaimed. "I didn't even know I was a teacher till 'bout twenty minutes ago when those kids asked me! Why don't you go ask _them_ why we have class in July?"

That's when Peter came down the stairs, still drying his hair with a towel. He had dawned himself in white pants and an almost indie-like shirt, embroidered with designs along the cuffs and collar, as well as a bit down the front for where the shirt fastened shut. He also managed to find some love beads to hang around his neck. "What's in July?" He asked, tossing the towel on the nearest couch.

"According to that calendar over there," Davy said, pointing towards the dresser where he left the pocket calendar lying haphazardly on top, "Today is Sunday, July 10th, 1966."

"Okay?" Peter asked, not catching on.

"Micky wants to know why those kids think I'm gonna teach them anythin' tomorrow at school in the middle of July," Mike added, moving towards the stairs to shower.

"Who wants to go to school in July?" Peter asked, scrunching his face up in disgust.

"That's what I wanna know!" Micky exclaimed, looking at a book before tossing it aside.

"Well we can ask those kids later, it's probably some easy excuse like summer school," Davy said, pulling out drawers in the kitchen.

"Or Mike's such a _good_ person, so he's willing to teach little kids without getting paid," Micky said teasingly.

Peter and Davy exchanged surprised looks before bursting out in laughter.

"Now first of all," Davy laughed once he caught a breath. "It's hardly believable that Mike's a teacher. Second, do you really think Mike would be willing to do _anything_ without getting paid?"

From the stairs, Mike rolled his eyes. "Well I don't get paid to babysit you three, now do I?"

"We don't need a babysitter!" Micky defended.

"Ahem," Mike cleared his throat before continuing. "If I recall, ya'll told me that while I was visitin' family in Texas, you, Micky Dolenz, got caught up in a bodybuilding program just to impress some girl that didn't have any interest in you."

"Then there was that time we got involved with that Russian ballerina who had a thing for Peter," Davy admitted.

"And there was the time you got abducted by aliens, Mick," Peter added helpfully.

"Guys, stop helping him prove his point," Micky moaned. "In my defense, we've gotten into a lot of trouble with you around too, Papa Nez."

"Oh yeah? Name one!" Mike countered.

"There was that time when you made Davy dress like a girl just so we could get into some radio contest!" Micky fired.

"And the time you made Davy audition for the lead in 'I Married a Creature From Outta Town," Peter added.

"Or that time when you sold 'I'm Gonna Buy Me a Dog,' to a con man," Davy added.

Mike flinched at the mention of that event. That's when they knew the fun was over. Mike didn't add anything, but began walking upstairs. They all knew Mike hated being reminded of that event. Even though they recovered from it with their revenge and $200, they never recovered Mike's pride. The song had not made a comeback in any rehearsals and had seemingly disappeared since the incident. Both Davy and Micky saw value in the song, but after the incident with Bernie Class, there was no bringing it back.

"I'm sorry Mike," Davy said immediately. "I didn't mean to bring it up, honest!" They heard the one of the doors slam shut and Davy flinched. "I thought it had been long enough since that happened. I thought he would have gotten over it by now. We were all joking around, right?"

"Yeah, but you know Mike," Micky sighed. "That guy hurt him good. He was real close to success and that man broke him. There's no recovering from that till he _does_ make it."

"Do you think we will?" Peter asked, twirling a few love beads.

"We've got what it takes," Micky admitted, his usual cheery persona fading. "We just need to find someone who believes in us. It's obvious that we do. We wouldn't be making a fiftieth anniversary album in 2016 if we didn't."

"Is that what we have to do then?" Peter asked, glancing towards the window. "Do we have to find someone who believes in us and hire us to make records?"

"I don't know," Micky admitted. "Davy, what exactly did the gypsy say about this trial again?"

"Uh, let me check," Davy said, dashing upstairs. When he reached the two doors, he heard the shower running to his left, so he determined it was safe to enter the bedroom. He ran in and grabbed his book, now used to the sting of the book recording his memories. He flipped it open as he walked out of the room, scanning the pages as he made his way back downstairs to where Micky and Peter were. "She said that, 'In the present, you must _be_ the change.' What does that mean? What change?"

"Maybe we change from being a bunch of nameless musicians and a science teacher to being famous?" Micky asked.

"But we don't even know _where_ we are yet," Davy pointed out. "Everything looks the same out there. When Mike was talking with those kids, I was looking up and down that street. It feels like it goes on forever. Just miles of the same house on both sides of the street."

"We could ask?" Micky asked. His face suddenly lit up. "I've got an idea! You two stay here, I'll be right back." He suddenly ruffled his hair to make it a mess, took off a shoe, and ran for the front door. He went outside and shut it behind him. Both Davy and Peter watched from the window as Micky walked across the street, stumbling and flailing about. He walked up to the woman who was watering her roses.

"Oh! Hello Micky!" The old lady said from her lawn. "My, you look like a train wreck this morning."

Micky cocked his head a bit, "I- I'm sorry," He cleared his throat. "M-my friends and I, we may have had a bit too much last night…"

"I can tell," The old lady said. "Would you like me to get you some water?"

Micky shook his head. "I just have a few questions… My memory isn't being very good to me this morning, if you can't tell Mrs…"

"Gray," The old lady gave him an odd look, as if he should have known her name. "My you did have a lot last night. We've been neighbors for two years and you've completely forgotten my name."

"I'm really sorry 'bout that," Micky apologized. "I may have also forgotten where we live, like the city and state and such."

"Micky dear, we live in Pleasant Valley, just like we always have," Mrs. Gray told him.

"Pleasant Valley?" Micky asked, genuinely confused.

"Oh yes, today is just another good ol' Pleasant Valley Sunday," Mrs. Gray said. "Anything else you may have forgotten?"

"Uh…" Micky looked up at the sky. This was his chance to get as many questions answered as he could. "What's my job?"

"Dear, you're a musician," Mrs. Gray said politely as she could. "That's why I assume you live with your bandmates. You four play your music in the garage all the time. Now how could you forget that?"

"Then why is Mike a teacher?" Micky asked drunkenly.

"Mike's always been a teacher. The children were the ones who convinced Michael to join your little group."

"And another thing," Micky asked, trying to keep up the gag by jumping from one question to another. "Why is Mike teachin' kids in July?"

"Micky, don't you remember anything?" Mrs. Gray asked. "Those kids just love Michael so much! They begged and pleaded for Michael to teach them stuff over the summer. It was the sweetest thing to happen in this neighborhood since Mr. Green over yonder moved in with his wife, Michelle. Now I think we've had enough of this little game here, let me take you home." Mrs. Gray put down her watering can and came out to the street, leading Micky home. As they passed her mailbox, Micky noticed it said, 'Gray.' As they passed their mailbox, Micky noticed it said 'Monkees.'

When Peter and Davy saw them approaching, they panicked. Davy ran into the kitchen and Peter jumped up, ready to answer the door. Mrs. Gray walked him up to the door, knocking on it for the decidedly drunken Monkee. Peter answered.

"Good morning Peter!" Mrs. Gray said to him.

"Hi," Peter said, giving Micky a confused look.

"Oh please! Don't tell me you're wasted, too," Mrs. Gray exclaimed.

"No ma'am, I didn't touch anything from last night. I had to keep Micky here in line," Peter lied.

"Well so much for that job. He came runnin' over to my house and askin' me all sorts of common sense questions. You should put this poor boy to bed!" Mrs. Gray handed Micky over. Peter gently pushed him inside where he lied down on the couch.

"Thank you for bringing him back over," Peter said, trying his best to avoid calling her by name.

"You're welcome. Anyone else in there plastered?" Mrs. Gray asked, peering inside.

"Uh, yeah," Peter said quickly blocking her view. "Mike's upstairs sleepin' it off and Davy's in the kitchen. I'll keep them in line, I promise you. Have a nice day," Peter said quickly. Mrs. Gray huffed a little before turning and leaving the yard, returning to her roses across the street. Peter quickly shut the door and turned to Micky. "That was your big idea?! Pretend to be drunk and question the sweet old lady from across the street?!"

"Well I got answers, didn't I?" Micky smiled, abandoning his drunken act and taking on the normal, childish feel. "She says we live in Pleasant Valley and the three of us are musicians. Apparently in this place, Mike really, _really_ likes kids. The kids convinced him to teach them over the summer _and_ to join the Monkees."

"Are we even the Monkees in this place?" Davy asked, entering from where he hid in the kitchen.

"Our mailbox says 'Monkees,' so I assume so," Micky said. "Is Mike done yet? I feel absolutely disgusting."

"I think so, but you may want to give him some space," Peter said, looking upstairs. "Davy, you should go talk to him."

"Why me?" Davy asked, dreading the idea of encountering Mike after his foolish mistake.

"Because it's your fault he's like this," Peter pointed out. "I think he's in the bedroom anyways."

Davy sighed. "Alright, I'll go talk to him. He started to make his way upstairs. Before he disappeared from view, he said to the two Monkees on the ground floor, "You know, it's funny. We're in Pleasant Valley, and it's Sunday."

"It's just another Pleasant Valley Sunday," Micky sang teasingly. He waved up at Davy. "It's just a coincidence. Now go and make Mike feel better. We can't do anything productive with Mike all gloomy and morbid."

"Yes sir," Davy said, trudging up the stairs, rehearsing in his head what he was going to say.


	3. Chapter 3- Writing Wrongs

Chapter 3- Writing Wrongs

"Mike?" Davy asked, knocking on the door. Without an answer, Davy slowly opened the door and poked his head in, finding Mike lying on his bed, away from the door. "Mike?" Davy asked again, shutting the door quietly behind him.

"What?" Mike asked from the bed, not bothering to turn towards the Englishman.

"I'm sorry, you know I am. I didn't mean to bring it up," Davy apologized. With Mike facing away from him, it made it easier to say, "That was a rough time and I shouldn't have brought it up. Especially with everything that is going on right now."

Davy heard a sigh from the bed. Mike finally sat up, but still did not face Davy. "I don't know why I'm still worryin'," Mike said, his head low so his wet hair hung in front of his face. He now dawned a white button down with a blue tie wrapped loosely around his neck. He wore red pants with white boots as well. Davy quietly moved to the bed and sat next to him as Mike continued. "I know we're gonna make it, I have seen what we're gonna become. I… I don't know why I'm still doubting myself, still wondering why we haven't made it yet."

"It's because the time hasn't come yet, Mike," Davy said heartfully. "We just have to wait. Old Peter showed me this video back in 2016, and it was about us, the Monkees," Davy smiled a bit when he said the name. "It talked about how Honeywell recommended us and that's how we made it."

"Really?" Mike asked.

"Really. So you just need to chill out and do what you do best. Write songs and babysit Micky, Peter, and I."

Mike finally smiled at that. "Thanks Tiny," He took a small pause before continuing. "I don't know why I still let that bother me. That time with Bernie Class, I mean. It was so long ago and we did get back at him in the end."

"It was a stupid move you don't want to admit to, I think," Davy admitted, "It hit so close to home that it almost ruined your music career."

"It didn't, though. I had you three to get me back upon my feet," Mike said.

"True, but do you realize how hard that was? Micky had to pretend to be a high-class movie producer to con that man into giving you your money back."

"And then some," Mike thought back to the memory of Micky pretending to be M.D, the 'famous' movie producer. "I can't thank you guys enough for that."

"It was all Micky's idea," Davy admitted.

Mike sighed again. "Yeah… I don't know where I'd be without you guys. I… I'm sorry I overreacted, Davy."

Davy shook his head. "You have no need to be sorry, Mike. I should have never mentioned it."

"I just hope we never have to deal with con men and being ripped off ever again," Mike mused. Davy turned away, remembering what else the video said. It said that they would be treated poorly by Pachyderm Records, their rights as musicians literally stripped away. He didn't know much about that, or how that was going to happen, but Davy tried to not let it bother him. It was a bridge they would face when they got there. For now, they had these trials to complete. One down, two to go.

"Mike! Davy!" They heard Peter yell from downstairs. "I found some instruments!"

Mike and Davy gave each other a surprised look before jumping off the bed and running downstairs. Once there, they found no Monkees, but rather an open door releasing the sounds of a bass and the beats of drums. They looked into the garage, finding Micky and Peter playing their respective instruments happily. Davy and Mike smiled at each other, hopping in and picking up their own respective instruments.

"Man, this girl's a beauty!" Mike mused, tuning the off-white electric guitar. "She sounds absolutely lovely!"

Micky and Peter both smiled at Davy, happy to see Mike out of his rut. Micky waved at Davy to come over, where he whispered, "What did you do to him?"

"Nothing," Davy whispered back. "Put a guitar in his hands and he is as good as gold."

"Did you even apologize?" Micky teased.

"Yes!" Davy defended. "And he apologized to me too… For reasons he really didn't need to, but he's good now."

Micky rolled his eyes with a grin on his face. "How about we play something on these things?" He announced. Peter and Mike both agreed and came closer to the drum set. "Anyone up for a little bit of 'She?' They all smiled and jumped right into it. They all had to admit, it was a bit sloppy, but with a little bit of rehearsing it would be a smash. However they all also approached this play as a play for fun rather than a gig. So they continued on, playing hits like 'Let's Dance On,' 'Hold On Girl,' '(I'm Not Your) Steppin' Stone,' 'Saturday's Child,' and 'Look Out (Here Comes Tomorrow).'

There was an all too familiar sounding knock on the garage's front door, spooking the four musicians. The rattling of metal was accompanied by an unfamiliar voice saying all too familiar words. "Will you four keep it down in there! I cannot possibly watch my programs with you all screaming and banging on those instruments of yours! Keep it down, you hear?!"

Mike quickly put his guitar across his back and ran over to the garage door, opening it to reveal a small, angry little man. He was quite possibly in his early seventies, but could also have been fifty. Mike couldn't tell. He could, however, see himself in the reflection of the little man's bald scalp. The man was almost shorter than Davy. Almost.

"I'm sorry sir, we didn't mean to disturb you," Mike said to him.

"Sorry? Sorry!" The little man yelled. "Michael Nesmith, you've been living here for two years! You should know by now that I'm in my house watching my programs at exactly noon and four-thirty! I have told you time and time again not to play while my programs are on!"

Micky hopped out from behind his drums. "We're really sorry! We had a little too much to drink last night and forgot when your programs were on. It won't happen again, we promise! Right fellas?" All the Monkees quickly agreed.

The little old man squinted his eyes in doubt. However, he turned on his heel and walked away. The Monkees watched as he left their yard and walked right into the house on their right. Micky walked out a little ways into their own yard to try and see the old man's name on the mailbox. When he did, he ran back into the garage, pulling the door closed when he was safely in. "That's Mr. Green. Mrs. Gray mentioned him earlier when I was over there."

"What'd she say?" Mike asked.

"She said something about him moving here with his wife. I don't entirely remember, but he's obviously not a force to be reckoned with," Micky walked over and pulled the sheet back over the drum set. "This garage is really musty, though. Could use with a little cleaning up."

"So could I," Davy mumbled. "I'm going to head up for my turn, if that's alright."

"Go right on ahead," Mike said, motioning towards the door back into the house. Davy disappeared into the house as the others began cleaning up the garage. When Davy came back dawning their classic red eight-button shirt with black pants and white boots, Micky disappeared to finally have his turn in the shower. When the garage was tidied up, the three remaining Monkees ventured back into the living room, where Davy picked up his book and began picking through it, trying to find any clues as to how they were going to "be the change" as the gypsy had put it.

"Do you think she's going to show up during this trial?" Peter asked as he and Mike played Go Fish at coffee table.

"I don't know," Davy said. "But I'm thinking maybe one of our crazy neighbors are the key to getting us out of here."

"What does that mean?" Mike asked, pulling from the draw pile.

"Well, Ghost Me said that someone has to open the portal for us, just like he did. So maybe one of our neighbors knows what's going on and will open the portal for us once we do whatever they want us to do."

"Yeah, but Ghost Davy didn't show up till the very end of the trial when we were basically _finished_ with the trial," Mike pointed out. "What makes you think that the person who is going to open the portal is already here?"

"I don't know," Davy admitted. "I just have a feeling." He turned back to his book, but not before checking his watch. "It's almost one, should we maybe go out and socialize with our neighbors? Figure out who's going to take us to the next trial?"

"We should probably wait for Micky," Peter said, drawing a card from the draw pile.

As if on queue, they all heard something fall down the stairs, followed by a quick, "I'm okay!" They all turned to see Micky at the foot of the stairs, halfway inside a striped turtleneck.

"What's that?!" Davy asked, cringing at the turtleneck.

"A sweater! I just can't seem to get it on all the way," Micky admitted shyly. Mike rolled his eyes, walking over and pulling the shirt the rest of the way down. He then helped Micky stand up, casually dusting the drummer off as he did so.

"That's the ugliest sweater I've ever seen!" Davy pointed out.

"Would you like me to change, Rob Roy Fingerhead?" Micky sneered.

"Hey!" Mike scolded him. "We agreed never to bring _him_ up again."

"Sorry Mike," Micky apologized. Ever since the catastrophe with Chic Magazine, they all agreed to never speak of the notorious 'Rob Roy Fingerhead,' due to their mutual hatred for them and the way he ruined their reputation.

"But he's right, you do need to change, or at least cover that thing up," Mike said, pointing to the turtleneck.

Micky rolled his eyes and began his trek back upstairs. However, before he could reach the top, he felt something snag him, pulling him down. Then there was momentary darkness as something covered his eyes. There was a concerning _rip_ before seeing that he was now wearing a poncho.

"There we go! He doesn't have to try and get out of that monstrosity and it is covered up well by our dining room table cloth."

"A table cloth right out of Davy Jones's house," Peter laughed.

"It does suit you, Mick," Mike chuckled as well.

Micky looked down at the extravagantly hip man-made poncho, playing around with the frayed edges around his neck. He had to admit, it didn't look too bad. "We'll have to find someone to sew up the collar, though."

"It's a work in progress," Davy laughed, helping him take it off. "We can see if any of the neighbors are willing to fix it."

Micky hopped off the stairs and took the table cloth. "Did you really take this off our dining room table?" He played with the hole where he head used to be.

"Yeah… I kind of did it on impulse," Davy confessed. "We'll have that hole sewn up in no time and the cloth returned to its rightful spot on-"

"No, no, I like it. It just needs a collar. See if anyone will put a collar on it and I'll be good to go. However, I'll still need help getting out of this turtleneck." Mike waved for him to come closer. Micky did so and Mike grabbed his sleeves and began to pull. Micky bent down to help slip the shirt off. After a few attempts and pulling and tugging, the shirt came off and Mike handed it back to Micky.

"If you're gonna keep wearing turtlenecks, you may want to get a bigger size," Mike joked as Micky began going back upstairs, shirt in hand.

"Duly noted, Mike," Micky replied, disappearing back upstairs. When they heard the bedroom door shut, a new knock welcomed their ears. This time, it was the front door.


	4. Chapter 4- Gettin' In

Chapter 4- Gettin' In

Mike took two large strides towards the front door. As he turned the doorknob, Peter and Davy appeared at his side, both intent on finding out who it was. The door opened, revealing a young brunette, looking sheepish from one face to the other.

"Hello," She said, not sure who to focus her attention on. "My name is Melissa Neal. My uncle and I just moved into the neighborhood and he's hosting a barbecue tonight at our house. He is inviting the entire neighborhood."

No one replied for a moment. Peter noticed right away that Davy had that _look_ in his eyes, but was surprised to see that Mike had a more surprised yet _similar_ look on his face. Peter sighed. It was bad enough that Davy was in love, but Mike? "We appreciate the invitation, Melissa," Peter spoke for the group. "But, uh, which one is your house, exactly?"

Melissa turned and pointed a few houses down on the other side of the street. "That one with the mailbox labeled 'Duncan.' That's my uncle's last name."

"Great," Peter said, "We'll be there. It's nice to meet you Melissa. Uh, my name's Peter, this is Mike and-"

"Davy," Davy said, lost in her eyes. "Davy Jones."

Peter groaned. "Davy…"

"Uh…" Melissa took a step back from Davy's lovestruck appearance. "Well, it was great meeting the three of you. So will we be expecting you?"

Suddenly there was a rumble from behind. The four turned to see Micky falling down the stairs on his rear. It was apparent that he had just simply missed a step and the rest of his trip down was tragic. When he hit the floor, he smiled proudly and jumped up to his feet, ignoring the intolerable pain in his hips. He joined his bandmates at the front door. "Hi! I'm Micky," He introduced himself to the girl.

"Melissa," Melissa smiled at him, amused by his failure.

"What are you doing here?" Micky asked.

"Well, I was just inviting you all to a barbecue my Uncle Andrew is hosting tonight."

"We'll be happy to go!" Micky said, oblivious to the fact that she and Peter had already had this conversation.

"We'll see you there," Peter said, interrupting Micky before he could speak more. "What time?"

"Five o'clock," Melissa smiled at them.

"Five o'clock at the house with 'Duncan' on the mailbox. Got it!" Peter said.

"Thanks, see you there," Melissa said, turning and walking back up to the street. Peter shut the door and turned to the two men who were still awestruck by the young brunette.

"What's up with him?" Micky asked, pointing at Mike.

"Same thing that's up with him," Peter said, gesturing towards Davy. "Davy?"

"She's beautiful, magnificent…" Davy mumbled.

"Mike?" Micky asked. Mike stayed silent, but still stared at the door as if she were still there.

Micky reached up and slapped Mike and Peter did the same with Davy. Both men were shaken out of their daze and focused in on Peter and Micky. Mike was rather sour about the whole thing.

"What was that for?!" Mike asked.

Micky couldn't help but laugh. "Mike, I think you caught a little bit of Davy-itis there."

"Hey!" Davy yelped in offense.

"What is that supposed to mean?" Mike asked, rubbing where Micky hit him.

"You're in love," Peter teased.

"Do you blame him?" Davy quickly jumped to the rescue. "She was beautiful! Elegant, marvelous, the most graceful thing I have-"

"I think they get the point," Mike said, blushing.

"Well you two are going to have to keep your wits about you, since we're going to her house later for her uncle's barbecue. Especially you, Davy," Peter said.

"Nothing good happens when you fall in love," Micky added.

"Which is a lot," Peter added.

"Hey! Nothing bad is going to happen tonight," Davy said, arms wide in defense.

"You promise?" Peter asked.

"I promise that my love-struck luck will not cause any problems," Davy said defensively.

* * *

"And there goes trouble," Peter moaned.

"At least it's not Davy who is causing all the trouble," Micky said.

"Well he's over there flirting with… I think Mrs. Gray's daughter? I can't remember if that's her niece or daughter. She told me about so many in that short amount of time I talked to her," Peter complained. They were at Andrew Duncan's trying their best to enjoy themselves, as well as gather up as much information as they could on the local residents.

Andrew Duncan was a very cheerful, middle-aged man. He and Micky got along nicely, joking around and laughing uncontrollably. They learned that Andrew had custody over Melissa since she was a little girl, after her father died in the war and her mother died in an automobile accident. They moved to Pleasant Valley because of a new job opportunity that was offered in the area. Melissa was going to go to school for an undergraduate in education, but when her uncle broke his arm a month before the move, she decided to take a year off to help take care of him.

Mrs. Gray was a little old lady who had lived in Pleasant Valley since she was born. She was raised, educated, and married in the town and never left. Her career was her family. She raised seven children, five boys and two girls to be exact, and made sure they all left her nest with the best spouse and the best future. One of her girls, Briahna, came back a year ago with her husband to take care of Mrs. Gray in her old age.

Briahna and David Squire lived right next to the Monkees. They haphazardly learned that every morning David mows his lawn promptly at 9:30, the same time that the band is supposed to begin rehearsal. (They discovered this fact when David called them out on their missed rehearsal time.) His favorite part about the daily chore was listening to the band rehearse. As he mows his lawn, his wife spends the morning at her mother's, helping her with her medications. David was a lawyer by trade and his wife was a school teacher. Mike had made a note to himself to talk to her later about the whole teaching business that he was thrown into.

Mr. Green lived on the other side of the Monkees. He did not go to the barbecue, but Mrs. Gray made it a point to tell his story even though everyone else at the party had heard it a million times. He had been here for a while, before Briahna Squire went off and got married. He moved into Pleasant Valley with his wife Michelle, but she passed away a few months back. Since then he has locked himself away in his house, doing nothing but immersing himself in television. To make his point, he purchased a television for almost every room in his house. If he was not watching television, he was either taking care of one of his needs, or aggressively yelling at his neighbors. Usually the Monkees…

Then there were the children the Monkees had met earlier that day. None of them were sure of where they came from, but they were common sights in the neighborhood. So common that they attended the barbecue as well. There were five of them; Alexis, Christina, Dylan, Cole, and Scotty. If you saw one, the other four were usually somewhere close by. They were all students of Mike's, apparently, and took English with Briahna. From their age, the Monkees could guess they were probably in the 6th or 7th grade. All of the neighbors adored them, except for Mr. Green, of course.

Davy was purring and falling for the young lady who was visiting. Aurora was the youngest of Mrs. Gray's girls. Davy came in with his eyes set on the young Melissa Neal, but once he caught the attention of Aurora, who was equally into Davy as he was her, he made a beeline for the picnic table she sat at. Peter and Micky had just noticed that Mike was sitting at a picnic table as well, talking with none other than Melissa.

It started with Mike and Andrew talking near the grill, about the ins and outs of cooking and grilling, surprisingly. Then Melissa walked over, just for the need to be by someone she knew. Mike almost froze up again. He tried to focus on his conversation with Andrew some more, but then Andrew left to get more meat from the house, leaving both Mike and Melissa in an awkward position.

"So… What was with your friend earlier today?" Melissa asked, nodding towards Davy who was two inches away from kissing Aurora Gray.

"Davy? Oh, he has a medical condition," Mike deadpanned.

"Oh yeah?" She asked, cocking an eyebrow.

"Yeah, he falls helplessly in love with every woman he meets," Mike smiled, indicating the joke. Melissa laughed at it, igniting Mike's affection even more.

"So he had fallen for me?" Melissa asked with sass in her voice.

"Yeah, but it looks like he has moved on already," Mike pointed out.

The sass continued back and forth. Eventually they sat down at the nearest picnic table and continued talking throughout the night. Micky and Peter kept a close eye on them, eavesdropping every once in awhile to make sure nothing too serious was blooming. They did the same for Davy, but something told them that Davy wasn't going to be a problem like he normally was in these situations.

* * *

The sun had set and Andrew had built a fire for his new neighbors to sit around. The food was moved inside and everyone seemed to be having a wonderful time. Davy and Aurora had now moved on to talking with Mrs. Gray and Briahna. Peter had been talking with the children, educating them on singing and music. Micky was joking around with David and Andrew. Mike, to everyone's surprise, was still engaged in an exciting conversation with Melissa. That was, until Micky tripped himself while trying to exaggerate the story of their fight against the Russian spies who were after a microfilm in Davy's maracas. He fell backwards, hitting his head on the rim of the fire pit ring. Davy, who was closest at the time, pulled Micky away from the fire before anything on his body caught fire. Mike and Peter dropped their conversations immediately and ran over to Micky and Davy. The entire party was silenced and all eyes were on the Monkees.

"Micky are you alright?!" Mike exclaimed as Davy lead him over to a picnic table.

Micky answered in a groan, touching the back of his head. He flinched at the touch, drawing his hand forward. There were splashes of blood on his hand. Davy examined the injury from behind. "Doesn't look too bad, Mick. We just need to wrap this up quick and you'll be good as new."

"How long?" Micky asked quietly, his head throbbing in pain.

"Not long," Davy said, still picking at Micky's head.

"You think so?" Micky mumbled.

"You have to," Davy said, giving concerning glances to Mike and Peter.

Melissa suddenly emerged from the house with a large case in her hands. "First aid kit anyone?" Without a response she handed it to Mike, who then handed it to Davy to hold. Mike began to work on wrapping Micky's head to stop the bleeding, for no one was sure what else to do.

The shock of Micky's plight gradually wore off and soon everyone began to head home one by one. The Monkees were one of the first, thanks to Micky's whining. Andrew and Melissa showed them out, thanking them for coming. Peter escorted Micky home as quickly as he could, while Mike and Davy hung back, fitting in last minute small talk. Davy fished for a goodbye, and finally got one from Andrew, who went inside to join the others. Mike turned to go, but was stopped by a hand gripping his arm.

"Mike," Melissa said quickly, "Would… uh…"

"Tomorrow?" Mike asked.

"Yeah, maybe out at the local diner?"

"I'd love that," Mike said, smiling.

Melissa let go of his arm and gave a shy smile, quickly turning on her heel and darting inside. Mike turned back towards the road, where Davy was looking on in bewilderment. When Mike reached the road, Davy asked him, "What was that all about?"

"Well," Mike started, shoving his hands in his pockets and avoiding eye contact. "I think I just landed a date with Melissa for tomorrow."

"You think?" Davy said, doubt in his voice. "It looked to me you both knew full well that it was going to happen before she asked."

"Well," Mike said again, releasing one hand from his pocket to rub his neck. "We have been talking about going out and gettin' to know each other more throughout the night. That just kind of sealed the deal, I guess."

Davy cocked an eyebrow, still in disbelief. "Did you forget that we're here to complete this trial and get home?"

"No," Mike said quickly, "I... I don't know..." Mike had to admit, he had forgotten. He felt overwhelmed with her. He didn't want to admit that he had feelings for her, because when Davy mentioned he he remembered that they did have bigger fish to fry. He had to keep his mind out of the gutter. However, Mike couldn't stop thinking about her...

"Well, let's go to bed mate, I think we have bigger problems that will demand our attention tomorrow. Just don't forget why we're here."

"Right… tomorrow," Mike said to himself as the two walked back to the Monkees residence. That Sunday ended for the Monkees, but no one seemed to care. For the rest of the neighborhood, they had no idea what was going to be in store for them the next morning.


	5. Chapter 5- Circle Sky

Chapter 5 - Circle Sky

With a yawn, the young Englishman awoke. His eyes peered up at the familiar ceiling above his bed. Rolling over, he saw the familiar bedroom he had been so accustomed to. In that room there were the three other beds, holding the three other men he had known so well. At first he wondered if they were home. Then he remembered the day before. The neighbors, the party, the almost perfect neighborhood setting. Slowly he sat up, looking around the room. It really did look like their bedroom back home. On tired feet Davy stood, trudging out of the room and into the unfamiliar hallway, silently reminding himself where he was and what he was doing. He walked downstairs and ended up in the kitchen, searching for breakfast.

The buzzing of a lawnmower sparked the Englishman's attention. He peered out the window, seeing David Squire mowing his lawn. That's when it hit him. The day before David Squire said that his favorite way to start his Sunday mornings was to mow the lawn to the Monkees' music. At first he panicked. They missed their queue again. As far as they were concerned, they needed to try and act normal for the locals till they found out what they needed to do to get out and onto the next trial.

"Wait a sec," Davy mumbled to himself. Wasn't it Monday? Why was David mowing his lawn two days in a row? Shouldn't it be nice and short already? With a cup of milk in hand, Davy walked out onto their own front lawn. His bare feet were glazed in the morning dew, but that made the morning all the more… perfect. "Good morning David," Davy shouted to the squire.

"Why good morning Davy!" David Squire shouted at Davy. He turned off his lawnmower and walked up to the white picket fence that divided their lawns. "Where are the rest of you? I'm missing out on my morning jams!"

David laughed, causing Davy to chuckle in order to pretend that the remark was funny. "Uh, they're all asleep yet. What are you doing out this early?"

"It's 9:30, same time I always come out to mow my lawn," David explained. "And the same time you four usually start rehearsing in your garage."

"On a Monday?" Davy asked. "Didn't you mow your lawn yesterday?"

David's face dropped. "Monday? Today's Sunday."

"No, yesterday was Sunday," Davy defended. "There was that party over at Andrew Duncan's and Micky hit his head on their fire pit."

"What are you talking about?" David asked. "Are you talking about our new neighbor Andrew? He hasn't had any parties. He's still settling in to his new place with his niece. Also yesterday was Saturday. Mike and I went out fishing at Johnson's Lake. Heck, did Mike tell you about the fish he caught? It was this big!" David held his hands out at about his body's width to indicate how big the fish was.

"You're kidding," Davy said, mentally referring to the inaccuracy of the date rather than Mike's exaggerated fish.

"No man!" David laughed. Davy fell quiet for a moment, wondering what was going on. "Hey man, you alright?"

Not making eye contact, Davy waved him off. "Yeah, yeah I'll be fine. I'm just gonna… Go wake the others up. We have some stuff we need to rehearse."

"Yeah you do. Hey, can I request a little 'D.W. Washburn,' this morning?"

"What?" Davy said. The title of the song was unfamiliar to him.

"D.W. Washburn. I think Micky usually sings it. It goes… Da da-da-da da-daaaa," David sung the tune with total inaccuracy, but with what he could recognize the song came flooding back into Davy's memory. He knew D.W. Washburn. He knew that song quite well. One of Micky's favorites to sing in the shower, mostly.

"Oh, oh right. That one. I'll mention it to them," Davy said, making his way back to his doorstep. He slipped in, quietly shutting the door.

Davy took the opportunity to take a look around the living room again. It seemed very bland to him. Like the rest of the house there were no vibrant colors, no strange antiques scattered about the room, and no clashing artwork of any kind. It just looked like something you might expect walking into any other person's house. A person with a family; a spouse, kids, maybe even a dog. It was just so overwhelmingly _normal._

"Davy?" Davy looked up to see Micky standing in the archway to the kitchen, a bowl of cereal in his hands. "You alright? You look a little spooked."

"Do I?" Davy asked, quickly trying to shake off any feelings he might have been expressing. "Sorry 'bout that. How's your head?"

"My head?" Micky asked.

"Yeah, from when you hit your head on the fire pit last night. I see you ditched the bandages," Davy observed. He personally didn't think Micky should rid himself of the wrappings quite yet, but it was Mike's job to criticize Micky's life choices, not his.

Micky frowned, clearly remembering the incident from the night before. He quickly balanced the bowl in one hand and used the other to touch the part of his head that he hit last night. "I went to bed with the bandages on…" He muttered. "I… I don't feel anything. Davy, why don't you take a look?"

Micky turned around for Davy to inspect the damage. "Mate, you're gonna have to get lower if you want me to look at the back of your head," Micky quickly set his bowl down on a nearby end table and sat down on the couch. Davy walked behind it and began searching through Micky's hair for any type of injury. "When did you take the bandages off?"

"I don't remember ever taking them off…" Micky confessed. "My head hurt so much last night that when we got home I went straight to bed."

"Well…" Davy said, double checking Micky's head. "I don't see anything. No scars, no blood, nothing. Just a lot of hair."

"Are you sure?!" Micky said, his voice cracking a little bit.

"What's going on down here?" A grumpy voice asked. Davy turned to see Mike coming down the stairs, still clad in his pajamas as well.

"Micky's head is healed," Davy said to Mike. "Micky claims the bandages disappeared, too."

"I never took them off!" Micky defended.

"What are you talking about?" Mike asked.

"Come and look. Remember when Micky hit his head last night?" Davy parted Micky's hair to show where the injury used to be.

"Yeah?" Mike said, walking up to examine the head with the Brit.

"Look! There is nothing there. He doesn't even have a scar. No signs to prove that he ever hit his head on that fire pit."

"That's odd…" Mike confessed. "How are you feeling this morning, Mick?"

"Totally fine, no pain at all," Micky said, finally getting up from the couch to face the others.

"That is weird…" Mike murmured.

"You know what else is weird?" Davy said to the other two. "I just got done chatting with David Squire next door and he claims today is _Sunday._ "

"But yesterday was Sunday," Micky said.

"That's what I said!" Davy claimed. "He said yesterday was Saturday and he went fishing with Mike."

"Fishing?" Mike asked. "Yesterday was our first day here I could not have gone fishing with him yesterday. I didn't even know him yesterday!"

There was another grumble from the steps. "Guys, do you have any idea what time it is?" Peter made his way down the stairs and to the others. "Why do you guys have to shout so early in the morning?"

"It's nearly 10, Peter," Davy said.

"And whatever is going on here… It can't be good," Mike added. He, Micky, and Davy each passed concerning looks to each other. None of them were sure what they had been thrown into, but they all had a feeling whatever was going to happen next, it would not happen in their favor.


	6. Chapter 6-This Just Doesn't Seem to Be

Chapter 6- This Just Doesn't Seem to Be My Day

The Monkees ate, showered, and dressed. As fast as they could they made it to their garage before noon to rehearse. As per request of David Squire, the first thing they rehearsed was Micky's 'D.W. Washburn.' Then they noodled around, playing a variety of different tunes, making up some, ruining others, till noon hit again. Except they forgot to stop at noon.

There was banging on the garage's front door. Mike sighed, getting up and and opening it, finding a very angry Mr. Green at the front door. "What do you four boys not understand about the word 'quiet?' As you know Nesmith, my programs start promptly at 12 o'clock pm and end at four-thirty pm. When you boys first moved here you all agreed you would refrain from practicing your noisemakers between those times."

"Yes sir, we are sorry Mr. Green, we just got a little distracted, that's all," Mike apologized. Micky, Peter, and Davy all tried to keep their surprised yet amused faces hidden from the scary old man.

"You damn right better be. I don't want to hear any more of this noise, you understand?"

"Yes sir," Mike said. Mr. Green huffed and marched off back to his house to watch his programs. Mike shut the door and sighed.

"I wonder what's gotten up his-" Micky began before Davy slapped a hand over his mouth.

"What time is it, Pete?" Mike asked, setting his guitar on its stand.

"Quarter after twelve," Peter answered, glancing at his watch.

Before Mike could suggest a solution, there was a knock on the front door to the house. They all gave each other confused looks before running to answer it. Mike got to it first thanks to his long legs. They all straightened up before opening the door, revealing Mrs. Gray and the children who roamed the neighborhood.

"Ah, good afternoon Mrs. Gray, children," Mike nodded to them. "Uh, what brings you by this morning?"

"The children, have something to ask you, don't you?" Mrs. Gray said directly to Mike, but more so the children. When they said nothing, Mrs. Gray playfully rolled her eyes and continued. "They accidentally kicked their ball into your yard a little earlier this morning. I came out to water my flowers and found them squabbling about who should go into the yard and get it. None of them wanted to because they were afraid of getting yelled at by any one of you young men. Now I told them that I knew it would be okay with you if they just went in and grabbed the ball, but they still were scared."

"What's there to be scared about?" Micky asked the children.

"Well-well," The small, black haired boy Peter remembered to be Scotty stuttered, "Last time we threw something into your yard, Mr. Nesmith threatened to give us all detention." The boy shrank behind Mrs. Gray.

"Why would he do such a thing?" Davy asked, giving Mike a confused, but almost snarky look. Mike had a face of complete and utter surprise.

"I'm sure he was joking," Micky defended his bandmate. "You really wouldn't do that, would you Mike?"

"No, of course not," Mike said, thankful for his bandmates. "I was joking. Surely, I was."

"See kiddos, nothing to worry about!" Mrs. Gray said triumphantly.

"Yeah, if you kids need to grab something of yours from our yard, just do it. You don't need permission," Davy said reassuringly. He saw the children relax a little and one of them, Dylan, even smiled.

"Thank you sirs," Dylan said.

"You're welcome kids," Peter smiled happily.

"Why don't you all go play now?" Mrs. Gray insisted. The children murmured amongst themselves for a minute before running off. "You know, they were standing outside your lawn for at least half an hour to an hour before I finally made them come over here. It took all my strength not to intervene."

"Which you ended up doing," Davy pointed out.

"Yes, well, they didn't seem to be getting anywhere, now were they. It was Alexis's ball, too. She was devastated."

"You seem to be the all-seeing eye around this place, aren't you?" Mike proposed, leaning against the door frame.

"You could say that," Mrs. Gray smiled. "But don't tell anyone, though." She then gave a hearty, old lady laughed.

"Then you could tell us why Mike seemed to be so scary to those kids, huh?" Peter asked. "They weren't so scared of him yesterday when we saw them."

"Oh it was just a little drama that happened about a month or two ago. I think you three might have been off doing I don't exactly remember what, but you were home alone, weren't you Mike?"

"Uh, yeah, because teaching," Mike said, passing the confused look he had to his bandmates.

"Right, exactly, and you might have been having a rough day because you were genuinely mad at those little rascals. Didn't you make it up to them though by bringing in cupcakes for your class the next day?"

"Ah, that's right ma'am," Mike said, trying to go along with the story.

"Mike, you made them cupcakes? Why don't you make me cupcakes?" Micky whined.

"Because you're a grown man, fully capable of making your own cupcakes," Mike shot.

"That explains a lot Mrs. Gray, thank you so much," Davy said, breaking up the tension between Mike and Micky. "You're a lot more than anyone on this street deserves."

"Oh, why thank you Davy!" Mrs. Gray pulled Davy out of the house and planted two kisses on his cheeks, one for each cheek. "You boys do mean a lot to me. You all brighten up this street so much with your music, despite what Mr. Green thinks. You just keep doing what you're doing. You really are role models to those kiddos."

"Thank you Mrs. Gray," Peter said with a smile.

"You boys have a good day now," Mrs. Gray said.

"Thanks, you too," Mike finished. Mrs. Gray turned around and Davy rushed back in, shutting the front door.

"That was…" Davy started.

"Hilarious!" Micky laughed. "Oh Mike, those kids were so scared of you! Did you see the genuine horror on their faces even at the mention of coming on our lawn? What did you do to those poor kids?"

"You heard what Mrs. Gray said though," Peter defended. "He made them cupcakes."

"But you never make cupcakes for me when you apologize!" Micky argued.

"But like I said, you are a _grown man,_ " Mike argued.

"Who, to use your words Mike Nesmith, 'needs a babysitter,'" Micky almost fell over laughing.

"You know Mike," Davy said as Micky continued to laugh, "The person this neighborhood thinks you are becomes stranger and stranger by the minute."

"Yeah, according to this place you're a teacher who bakes cupcakes and can go from psychotically angry to abnormally happy in a second."

"She never said that!" Mike exclaimed.

"I'm just making assumptions," Peter shrugged. "I mean, she said you baked _cupcakes_ for them the next day. That seems a little extreme even for me."

Mike rolled his eyes. "Whatever. Let's just -"

"Mike, look! It's Melissa!" Peter shouted. He was looking out the window and had spotted the brunette talking with Mrs. Gray on the sidewalk in front of their house.

Mike's face fell. "Melissa! I totally forgot about our date today!"

"If I remember correctly, the details were very vague," Davy contoured.

"We had already arranged it before we confirmed it last night," Mike said without even looking at him.

"He moves faster than you, Davy," Micky joked.

Davy sneered, but kept his mouth shut about the issue. Peter piped up, "She's coming this way!"

"Here, let's have Mike have his moment," Micky teased, grabbing Peter and Davy and dragging them into the kitchen. When they heard the knock on the door Micky literally pushed them into the kitchen, out of sight.

Mike opened the door, smiling when he saw Melissa standing there, looking beautiful, just as she was the night before. Melissa, shy and nervous, addressed Michael. "Hello," She said meekly. "My name is Melissa N-"

"I know," Mike interrupted. "We met yesterday, remember?"

Melissa gave Mike a very befuddled look. "Um… I don't think so. I'm sorry if we did though. I've met so many new people this week it is hard to keep them all straight. Uh, my uncle and I just moved into the neighborhood, you see. He's hosting a barbecue tonight at our house. He is inviting the entire neighborhood. He sent me to tell the world, basically. My uncle does love his parties."

Mike felt his heart fall into his stomach. It was crushing. Everything that they talked about last night, everything they shared, it all had just vanished from her memory. Mike knew perfectly well it was only for one night, but let's face it, Melissa was the only person he _really_ talked to last night. Sure, he briefly mingled with others, but he spent a lot of his time getting to know Melissa. Every minute he spent with her last night made him, dare he even think it, _love_ her more. To see all of that vanish with just four words crushed him.

"We appreciate the invitation, Melissa," Mike croaked.

"We?" Melissa asked.

Without making Mike speak again, Micky, Peter, and Davy hopped out of the kitchen, running for the door.

"Hi there!" Micky announced. "We're the Monkees!"

Peter pulled Mike back a little, feeling the terror and depression resonating off the Texan. "We couldn't help but overhearing, Melanie,"

"Melissa," She corrected.

"Right," Davy added. "We couldn't help but overhearing your conversation with Mike here. We would love to come to your party at your uncle's house. Just give us the time and place and we'll be there!"

"Well," Melissa said, thrown off by the three Monkees. "It begins at five, over there at the house with 'Duncan' on the mailbox."

"Why thank you, Ms. Melinda. We'll be there!" Micky said, quickly shutting the door in her face.

Peter kept close to Mike. "Mike are you okay?"

Mike avoided eye contact with his bandmates. "I'm… I'm just going to go upstairs for a bit. Clear my head."

"You do that, buddy," Micky said, completely sober.

With his head hung low, Mike quickly made his departure for the bedroom, leaving the three Monkees downstairs.

"So this is the same Sunday," Davy said. "We are reliving yesterday."

"Seems like it, doesn't it? That explains why David was mowing his lawn this morning," Micky added.

"And why your injury is gone," Davy added.

"And why Melissa doesn't remember Mike…" Peter finished. They all knew very well that Mike never got the girl that often. When he did, he put his heart and soul into the relationship till one of them broke it off. Never had it broken it off so quickly that girl didn't even remember the relationship starting in the first place.


	7. Chapter 7- Oh My My

Chapter 7 - Oh My My

A few hours later and still no sign of Mike. None of the Monkees really bothered to go check on him this time, though. They knew when their attendance was forbidden, so they kept their distance. Instead, they all brainstormed their current predicament.

"So if we wake up tomorrow, will it be Sunday again?"

"If everyday is Sunday, then we'll have the same schedule everyday."

"The book says that our goal here is "to be the change." Does that mean changing fate?"

"Break routine, maybe?"

There was another knock at the door. The three Monkees glanced at one another before Davy got up to answer the door. When he opened the door, he was surprised to see two familiar, golden eyes.

"Hellooo Monkees!" The gypsy beamed. She had banished her futuristic 2016 style for something more modern and psychedelic. Davy assumed it was to blend in. "How's the trial goin'?"

"You pop up at the most convenient of times, don't you?" Davy almost smiled. He was almost relieved to see the gypsy. Almost.

Peter and Micky had stood and joined Davy at the door, both surprised to see the golden-eyed gypsy. "What are you _doing_ here?" Peter asked.

"Just checkin' in on you lot. Makin' sure you're not doing anything stupid," The gypsy said almost jokingly.

"Well then you should have come about 24 hours ago," Micky pointed up towards the stairs. "Mike fell in love."

"Yeah…" The gypsy's eyes lingered at the staircase. "Hate to break it to you, but I figured that was gonna happen."

"You _knew?"_ Davy exclaimed, his relief turning into his Davy-like anger.

"I'm a gypsy Davy, of course I knew. What do you think I am? Look, I know I said in the tent that you boys had to do these trials alone, but that doesn't mean I can't help just a tiny bit. I'm on your side. I _want_ you to complete these trials, remember?"

"Yeah, because kidnapping us and sending us to 2016 is helping," Davy scoffed.

The gypsy gave a nonchalant shrug that boiled Davy's temper even more. He wasn't sure if he loved or hated the woman. "I sensed that you boys were plotting, so I figured I'd show up and push you in the right direction. Though you all seem to be such _smart_ people, I assume you don't need my help. Just like how you didn't need my help getting to England or even knowing how to get out 2016. I'll just leave with all my wisdom and leave you guys to figure it out on your own…" The gypsy snapped around on her heels and began to march away.

"No! Wait!" Davy exclaimed.

The gypsy stopped in her tracks and turned, giving Davy a sinister, yet clever eye. "Okay then, Davy Jones." She walked back up to the door and made eye contact with the Brit, getting about two inches from his face. "But question my actions again and I'll make sure you're stranded in this fantasy for the rest of your life. And trust me, Michael wouldn't want that."

Micky made to argue, but Peter shook his head and placed a hand over his mouth to stop him. It didn't matter to argue at this point. Peter figured the best thing to do was to let Davy scrap with the gypsy. She clearly had good intentions, even if her delivery wasn't exactly pure. Davy never had a strong filter, anyways. Peter was even grateful it was Davy having it out with the gypsy. If it were Mike, boy she would be having a run for her money.

"Alright then," Davy breathed, trying to cool down. "How do you want to help us?"

"Well, tell me what you've figured out so far."

"Uh, come in, won't you?" Micky said as kindly as possible. The three Monkees stepped aside and the gypsy strolled in. Davy shut the door and they all took residence on the couch and chairs in the living room.

"Well, yesterday was Sunday," Davy started.

"And today is Sunday," Micky added.

"So we think tomorrow might be Sunday, too," Peter added.

The gypsy simply nodded. Davy continued, "There's a Sunday routine that kind of goes on, where we rehearse while David Squire mows his lawn, then the kids kick their ball in our yard, Mr. Green watches his programs at noon, and then Andrew Duncan has a party tonight."

"Maybe Micky should be a little more careful tonight, then," the gypsy said. "And Mike should be, too. What do you think he's gonna do tonight?"

"Frankly, I don't know if he's gonna come out for the party tonight," Peter admitted.

The gypsy shrugged again. "That might not be a bad thing. Maybe he should stay home."

"Are you saying he's gonna fall in love _every night?"_ Davy asked.

"Oh man, Mike's giving you a run for your money," Micky laughed.

Despite her amusement at Micky's joke, the gypsy shrugged again. "Be the change, as I say."

"Yeah, what does that even mean?" Davy asked with a splash of vexation.

"You've identified a pattern, haven't you?" The Monkees looked at each other. They had, they thought. Was it Mike's love affair? They made eye contact with the gypsy, who was now standing and making her way back to the front door. "Well then," She opened the door, turning back for one last look at the Monkees. "Go change it." She stepped through the door and shut it promptly behind her, leaving the Monkees alone again.

"Mike's going to be heartbroken when he hears this," Micky said breathlessly.

"What do you mean? He already is," Davy said just as breathlessly.

"I think I'll go check on him now. We should be getting ready to go to Andrew's party, anyways," Peter said heartfully. He quietly made his way upstairs to check on the forth Monkee. Davy and Micky both took in a deep breath, wondering what kind of trouble they were going to get into tonight.


	8. Chapter 8- We Were Made for Each Other

Chapter 8 - We Were Made for Each Other

At the party, Micky, Peter, and Davy tried their best to blend in and socialize with everyone. They had convinced Mike to say back this time. Luckily he did not argue, for he was still overwhelmed. It made the other three wonder what exactly they had talked about last night that got Mike so attached to the young lady. However, knowing that Mike was locked up safe in their temporary home, they played it easy and got to know their neighbors a little more.

"Uh, hi," Melissa said to Davy as Mrs. Gray left him to go tend to the scrape one of the children was crying over.

"Hi. Melissa, right?" Davy asked.

"Yeah," Melissa said, blushing a little. "I thought there were four of you."

"Yeah, Mike's at home right now. He hasn't been feeling the best so he thought it would be smart to just stay home. He didn't want to get anyone else sick," Davy lied.

"Oh, that's a bummer. You all seem like great people. Uh, what was your name again?"

"Davy, Davy Jones."

"Nice to meet you Davy," Melissa smiled. Davy smiled back, totally unphased by her beauty. In the back of his mind he reminded himself that everyone in the neighborhood was off limits, so he might as well not even try to fall in love now. Especially with the girl Mike had fallen so hard for. They talked for a little while and then parted ways to talk to other people from the neighborhood.

Hours passed and the sky darkened. It was when Davy and Peter were talking with Andrew Duncan that they heard a muffled 'thud' and a gasp travel across the yard. They looked over to the fire pit to find Micky on the ground, rolling away from the fire with his hands on his head. Davy and Peter rushed to his aid, helping him sit up.

"Micky! Are you okay?" Peter asked.

Micky groaned, removing one hand and seeing it covered in blood. He groaned louder, giving Peter and Davy puppy eyes. He didn't mean to hit his head again. He knew he goofed up.

"You're gonna be okay Mick. Hey Andrew, can we borrow your first aid kit?" Davy shouted, causing Micky to flinch a bit. Andrew nodded and ran into his house to retrieve the kit.

"You're gonna be okay, Mick, I promise," Davy said.

Peter gave Davy a concerned look. "Do you even know how to dress that?"

"I'm gonna give it my best shot. I watched Mike do it last night. Shouldn't be _that_ hard."

* * *

Mike was lying on his bed in the psychedelic bedroom, almost asleep. Almost. Since Micky, Peter, and Davy had left Mike had been contemplating, planning, and plotting _._ Peter gave him a brief summary of what the gypsy had said to them, but Mike was hardly paying attention at the time. He continued to tell himself he couldn't get wrapped up in people who he was not ever going to see again. " _Don't be like Davy,"_ he thought, counting the dots on the ceiling.

He figured that if they were going to "be the change" as the gypsy put it, they were going to have to change everything about the daily routine of Pleasant Valley. However, he was not entirely sure of what that routine was yet. Maybe it was because he had not lived it enough times. Maybe he could just stay in bed and not interact with anyone. Would that get them home? No, Micky couldn't lay in bed for that long. Maybe they should be mean to everyone, or even ridiculous. Try not blending in. Maybe they could try and be as obnoxious, silly, and Monkee-like as the Monkees could possibly be. It would drive the neighborhood crazy, but it's better than the alternative.

In his daydreaming plans, he heard a loud knocking at the front door. Moaning, he rolled out of bed and left to answer the door. When he opened it, his eyes fell and met Melissa's bright blue eyes.

"Ah, hi," She said nervously. In her hands was a plate of food. "Your friends told me you were home sick… And hungover… And working."

"They didn't agree on a cover story, did they?" Mike asked.

"Nah, I don't think so," Melissa smiled a great, beautiful smile. "But anyway, I brought you some food from the barbecue. I figured that maybe you would want some."

"Uh, why thanks," Mike said, taking the plate from her. "Come inside, won't you?"

Mike stepped aside and let Melissa in. "My, looks kind of like my house. I think the architecture is the same, actually."

"All the houses on this block seem to be that way, aren't they?" Mike said to try and continue the small talk. "Have a seat, won't you?"

"Thanks," Melissa sat down on one end of the couch and Mike took place on the other end, trying to angle himself so he could talk to her and eat at the same time. " _Don't be like Davy,"_ he reminded himself.

"So what's the real reason you decided to stay behind?" Melissa asked.

"I was just a bit hung up, that's all. Didn't feel like talkin' to people," Mike said vaguely, taking a bite of a potato chip.

"You were hung up, like with a girl?" Melissa asked, curiosity lining her words.

"Yeah," Mike said, "Like a girl. You remind me of her, actually."

"Oh do I? Is that why you acted so strangely when I came by this afternoon?"

Mike looked down at his food, trying to hide his embarrassment. "Sorry about that."

"No, no, it's okay. I actually thought it was kinda cute."

"You what?" Mike asked suddenly.

Melissa shrugged, a guilty smile on her face. "I was looking for you at the party, because I wanted to talk to you some more. Get to know you more."

"Well, you know, Davy's the one who girls usually look for."

"I don't see it," Melissa giggled. "To me, he just looks like another long haired weirdo."

"Well that's what we are," Mike sighed, "Long haired weirdos."

"You don't seem like the type," Melissa confessed.

Mike returned his attention to the food. " _Don't be like Davy,"_ he thought again. "Thanks," he said with a smirk.

Throughout the night they asked questions back and forth, similar as to the night before. Mike learned so much about the girl. Eventually he forgot that she might forget everything the next morning. " _It doesn't matter,"_ he thought. " _Maybe reliving this night won't be such a bad thing."_

"So tell me about this other girl," Melissa asked hours later. "The one I remind you of."

"Her?" Mike asked. Where to begin? "Well, she's-"

"MIKE!" The front door burst open and in came his band mates, Peter and Davy carrying Micky by the shoulders. Micky's head was draped in bandages that seemed to do no good. "MIKE!" Davy yelled. "MICKY HIT HIS HEAD AGAIN!"

"Again?" Melissa asked. However Mike didn't hear her. He jumped up from his seat and came to the rescue, taking Davy's spot and helping Peter take Micky into the kitchen to redress the wound. Davy made to follow, but noticed Melissa standing and ready to follow as well.

"What are you doing here?" Davy asked almost critically.

"I brought some food over for Michael," Melissa said.

"Michael?" Davy asked even more critically.

"Is Mike not short for Michael?" Melissa defended with a cynical tone. Davy was not rubbing off the way she wanted.

"Yeah, but no one calls him Michael unless there is something seriously _wrong_ is happening."

"Well Micky hit his head, I would say that's pretty serious."

Davy gave her a disapproving look before shaking his head and running into the kitchen where Mike was finishing up securing the bandage on Micky's head. Mike then tapped Micky's face a few times to get him to focus. "Micky? Micky? Can you hear me?"

"Yes Dad," Micky grumbled.

"Alright, think you can make it upstairs?"

Micky tried to shake his head like a four-year-old, but cringed at the pain it brought to his head. Mike sighed. "Peter, take him upstairs and put him to bed."

Peter did as he was told, helping the half-conscious Micky out of the kitchen.

"Mike I-" Davy began to protest.

"Is he going to be okay?" Melissa interrupted. Her question was obviously directed at Mike.

"It's Micky, he finds new ways to hurt himself everyday. I'm sure he's going to be just fine," Mike sighed.

"Oh, okay. That's good. Well, I should get going, then," Melissa said, pointing towards the front door. "See you tomorrow?"

"Of course," Mike smiled. "Anytime works fine."

"Thanks," She beamed at him. She then turned to Davy. "Have a good night, Davy." The young Melissa Neal turned lightly on her heels and left, leaving Mike romantically hungover and Davy suspiciously annoyed.

"Mike-" Davy began, but Mike shook his head and held up a finger.

"Not tonight Tiny. Don't even try and ruin this for me."

"She's a part of this… this _world_. We need to get back to our _world._ How long was she here anyways?"

Mike shrugged. "A few hours, maybe?"

"Was it still light out?"

Mike shrugged again.

"Mike-"

But Mike ignored him and left before he could get angry. He was too happy to get angry right now. All worries and frustrations were gone at the moment, and Mike wanted to relish in the feeling for as long as possible.


	9. Chapter 9- That Was Then This is Now

Chapter 9- That Was Then, This is Now

The sun was shining through the windows as it had the day before. Davy sat up, seeing Micky, Mike, and Peter fast asleep. He glanced over at the alarm clock next to his bed. Seven thirty. Davy sighed, but got out of bed anyway. He grabbed some clothes from the closet and made his way into the bathroom across the hall. Mindlessly he showered and dressed, keeping an ear open for the sounds of any of his band mates waking up. When he was finished with his daily routine, he almost galloped down the stairs and into the living room, looking out one of the windows. No one was out yet. The neighborhood was dead silent, apart from the light breeze and the occasional chirping bird.

He couldn't help but think about Melissa. There was something weird about her. She didn't rub off on him like she had the day before. Davy couldn't quite pinpoint it. The first thing might have been that she ended up with Mike anyway even though he didn't go to the party. He also still wasn't happy with the fact that she referred to him as Michael. Mike was always Mike unless it was an emergency, or panic, or fear. Michael was never used for casual conversation. When it was, Mike never liked it and that rubbed off on the others. Mike was Mike.

"Mornin' Davy," Davy turned to see Mike trudge down the stairs, making a direct turn for the kitchen.

Davy didn't reply at first, but then decided to ask, "You wanna talk about last night?" Davy said, the sight of Mike instantly reminding him of the dangerous game he was playing.

"What's there to talk about?" Mike asked, obviously not very focused.

"Melissa," Davy said. "She came over last night."

"Yeah, she did," Mike said, filling his bowl with cereal. Davy paused, looking for the right words as to not sound accusing, but Mike caught his drift. "You wanna know what we talked about, don't you?"

"A little, yeah. Considering she didn't know who you were yesterday and probably has completely forgotten about you today," Davy proposed.

"We don't know that," Mike defended.

Davy shrugged. "So, what _did_ you talk about?"

"Stuff," Mike said, putting the milk away.

"Like…?" Davy pushed.

"Life, us, the usual things you talk about when you meet someone for the first time."

"But it wasn't the first time for you," Davy said.

"Yeah, but I asked the same questions, just to make it seem like it was the first time." Mike drifted off for a bit, looking into the sea of cereal that sat in his bowl. He had his spoon in hand, but had not made the attempt to eat yet.

"You fell in love with her again, didn't you?"

"Oh knock it off Davy," Mike groaned. "You can only fall in love with the same person once."

"Then let me rephrase that. _She_ fell in love with _you_ again _._ "

"So what? You fall in love everyday."

"And I get over it everyday. You," Davy said, pointing at him for emphasis, "fall in love when you're actually in love."

"So?"

"Mike, have you forgotten where we are? We're not at home. The goal is to go home."

"And how do you suspect we do that Davy?" Mike said, his temper brewing.

"I don't know, but we need all hands on deck in order to get home, not our heads in the clouds fallin' for trouble."

"Trouble?" Mike scoffed. "Well you're one to talk. Angelita, Fern, Princess Bettina, Ellie Reynolds, Leslie Vandenburg, Princess Colette, must I go on? You've caused more trouble falling for girls than I have. How can you even assume that Melissa is going to cause trouble for us?"

"Because they always do! All of those girls are perfect examples, but there was also April Conquest who we _all_ fell for, Ella Mae Chubber whose father _kidnapped_ me; I didn't even love her like I did the others, and Ellen Farnsby who, if I remember correctly, was trouble because _you_ sought to help her when we were supposed to not get involved with the clients!" Davy took a deep breath. "Girls have never been good luck for us. Why would Melissa be any different? When I talked with her last night… She… well, something is not right about her."

"And how would you know? How long did you talk with her last night? Five, maybe ten minutes?" Mike assumed, angirly setting his spoon down. "You fall in love _everyday._ I don't even think you have a right to tell me Melissa is going to cause trouble." Mike scoffed. "Why are you even trying to argue this point, Davy? What's it to you whether or not Melissa loves me? Are you jealous that for once you're not the one getting the girl?"

"Mike, no, that's not-"

"Or is it because you think you might lose me to this crazy neighborhood if I don't follow the Monkee-norm?" Mike said sarcastically. "Look man, Melissa is not going to cause any trouble. She might even help us get out of here if you would just lighten up and stop being so… so…" He couldn't find a word. Instead, he angrily grabbed his cereal and marched out of the kitchen.

"So much like you?" Davy muttered to himself.

Micky and Peter entered, clad in their pajamas and confusion. "What's goin' on down here?" Micky asked, going straight for the cereal box Mike left on the counter.

Davy gave an disappointed huff. "I don't trust Melissa," he whispered so Mike wouldn't hear. "Something's not right with her."

"What makes you think that?" Peter asked. "She's literally the nicest person in this neighborhood besides Mrs. Gray."

"But all the nice girls seem to cause us trouble, don't they?" Davy sighed.

Peter and Micky gave each other concerned glances. He wasn't wrong. "What are you saying?" Micky asked.

"Man, I don't know what it is, but last night I was getting all the wrong vibes off her," Davy confessed. "When Mike brought you in here to get fixed up, I stopped out in the living room with Melissa, and something didn't feel right. _She_ didn't feel right."

"Man, it's probably nothing," Micky said. "It was probably the whole anxiety of me hitting my head again.

He took in a deep breath to keep his temper. "She referred to him as Michael last night. No one calls him Michael except for us, and that's usually when something _really_ bad is going on."

"Davy, it's nothing," Peter said. "People call him Michael all the time. It's his real, full name. It's on his license. There's nothing terribly upsetting about it."

"Yeah but Mike always introduces himself as Mike, not Michael-"

"Davy," Micky groaned. "We're only on Day Three. This whole Melissa thing is probably nothing. Let it go. We've got a trial to complete, and we can't complete it if you're worrying about Mike and Melissa's relationship. Maybe she'll be good for us, maybe even _help_ us."

Something in his gut told him that that was not true, no matter how much he wanted it to be. Davy gave a great, long sigh to indicate his defeat.

* * *

The day played out as it did the two days prior, except in a fashion more normal to the residents of Pleasant Valley. The Monkees rehearsed at nine while David Squire came out and mowed his lawn. Mrs. Gray babied her roses in her yard and the children kicked their ball into the Monkees yard, where Mike happily gave them the ball back. Mrs. Gray gave the Monkees a heart-warming good morning and bragged about her roses even though they didn't ask. At noon the Monkees refrained from playing so Mr. Green could watch his programs. Around twelve-thirty Melissa stopped by, inviting the Monkees to the barbecue that night. Mike wouldn't let any of them say no.

At the party, the Monkees played their part. They mingled, making everything up as they went along. Mike, of course, became preoccupied with Melissa.

"You're… Mike, right?" Melissa asked, walking up to him with a drink in her hand.

"Yeah," Mike smiled. "Melissa?"

"Yeah. Uh, you have some very… eccentric friends," She stumbled around looking for a conversation starter, just as she had the two previous nights. Of course she didn't remember that, but he did.

"Yeah, they're a handful," Mike chuckled. "But when you put an instrument in their hands, they shape up."

"You're musicians?" Melissa asked.

"Well, that's why we're called the Monkees. Can't think of any other reason to be called that."

Melissa shrugged. "How many years have you been living here?"

"Two years, or so I'm told," Mike pretended to joke.

"Oh really?" Melissa said.

"Yeah," Mike was at a loss for words. He had already learned everything he wanted to know about the girl, and reasking the same questions over and over seemed annoying and tiresome.

"So what do you play?" Melissa continued the questions so he wouldn't have to ask.

"Guitar. Peter plays bass, Micky's on drums, and Davy plays whatever miscellaneous percussion we need him on. We all sing pretty well, too."

"Maybe you four can play at our next party," Melissa suggested, as she had the two previous nights.

"We'd be honored to," Mike told her for the third night in a row.

"Do… Do you wanna, maybe go inside? Somewhere less noisy?" Melissa suggested in her shy, clumsy manor. This took Mike by surprise. However, he smiled and the two went into the house.

The Duncan house was the same as the Monkees' house. Exactly the same. The two sat down on the couch, however a little closer this time, and talked. They talked about music and teaching and children. Childhood stories and Monkee shenanigans. Mike was in love.

Mike laughed. "You know, Davy thinks that you might be trouble," He said in a joking tone.

"Me?" Melissa laughed. "Why me?"

"Oh we always get into trouble when it comes to girls. Usually it's his fault, but I digress. We've all had our fair share of trying to protect or impress a woman and it resulting in some crazy adventure. One time, we even tried chaining Davy to a chair so he wouldn't be exposed to any girls! That didn't work out too well."

"Well," Melissa reached out and touched Mike's hand, bringing the fun and laughter down to a light, tense, exciting setting. "I promise I will be no trouble to you, Michael Nesmith. I'll be a good little girl. I don't have any crazy Russian bosses or evil uncles. There's just me." She leaned over, kissing him on the cheek. Mike's face burned red, but his smile burned more.

"MIKE!" A voice yelled from outside. Micky hit his head. Again.

"Sorry, I guess that's my queue," Mike quickly got up and ran towards the doors.


	10. Chapter 10- Run For Your Life

Chapter 10- Run For Your Life

Every morning was Sunday. Every morning the Monkees would wake up and practice while David Squire mowed his lawn. Then the kids would kick their ball into the Monkees' yard and one of them would throw it back. If they forgot, Mrs. Gray would take the kids up to the door and ask Mike if they could have their ball back. Then Melissa would come and invite them to the party. Everyday Micky would hit his head on that fire ring. Everyday Mike would fall in love all over again. Everyday Melissa would fall in love with Mike again. Everyday Mike would promise Melissa a date, even though she would forget he even existed the next day. Every night Melissa would kiss Mike on the cheek, causing him to fall for her so much more than before. Each time her lips touched his skin he felt his worries fade away. The trials, the Monkees, the idea of going home, it all was second in comparison to Melissa. Or at least that is how Davy saw it.

Every night Davy would go to bed furiously annoyed at how hung up their leader was on this girl that he seemed to find reasons to despise more and more. Mike was starting to change, Davy realized. Every night he spent with Melissa they seemed to get less of Mike in return the next morning. Davy tried endlessly to convince Micky and Peter, but they pushed it aside as love, considering they had been in that situation with Davy a hundred times before. However Davy was certain something was amiss with Melissa, he just wished he had the evidence to prove it to his band mates.

Peter was concerned, for all their well being. He was not ready to admit it, especially to Davy, but he did notice Mike's changes. Mike talked to them less. Peter and Micky were now taking charge of rehearsals because Mike would space out for a minute or would be the one playing incorrectly. Mike would run and answer the door every time there was a knock, dealing with whoever was there. He only ever really talked extensively to Melissa. It worried Peter that Davy might be right. Maybe Melissa was trouble. Or it could be love, like they said. Peter was not entirely sure, but he wasn't willing to get on Mike's bad side like Davy had.

Micky was all for Mike and Melissa. When Davy would try and pick a fight with Mike, Micky was always on Mike's side. He didn't see any problem with it. Sure, Mike would be heartbroken when it was time to leave, but Mike never got to be this happy. He wasn't exactly mad at Davy for trying to fight with Mike, more so annoyed. Davy made good arguments, such as Mike's excitement to see her or how they run off to talk before sundown, but Davy had done that a thousand times with other girls. How is Mike supposed to be any different? However, Micky had to admit, he did miss home. He, Peter, and Davy would toss ideas around as to how to get home, but all seemed fruitless if Mike was to continue seeing Melissa. They gypsy had indirectly told them so. Micky hated to see Mike crushed, but what else could they do?

They had lost count as to how many Sundays had past. When they opened their eyes in the morning, they already knew it was Sunday. Micky, Peter, and Davy all dragged themselves out of bed, changed, and parted to get ready for another Sunday. They knew the drill.

Micky came into the bathroom while Davy was brushing his teeth. As the drummer whipped toothpaste onto his brush, he commented, "You know, I'm sick and tired of going to bed every night with a headache."

Davy spat into the sink and said, "Then stop telling that story about the Russian spies and my maracas."

"Sorry! I start to run out of stories after a while."

"Maybe we should do something different today," Davy said tiredly, proceeding to rinse his mouth out.

"Like what?" Micky asked, his mouth foaming with toothpaste.

"I don't know, maybe just not rehearse today? Take the day off? Maybe stay inside and play cards or sleep. I don't even want to go to that party tonight. We haven't worked on trying to find a way home. Maybe we should do that today."

"Yeah, but you know Mike is going to want to see Melissa," Micky commented.

"Man, I wish he could get his head in the game. We can't keep reliving the same day over and over just so Mike can flirt with the same girl every night. I'd like to sleep in the Pad eventually, not this place."

Micky gave a violent spit into the sink. "I got it!"

"What?" Davy asked, wiping the spit from his face.

"We can play a "game" with Mike. Lock him upstairs and keep tabs on him all night so he doesn't fall in love with Melissa again."

"Micky, Mike's already in love with Melissa. We need to make sure Melissa doesn't fall in love with Mike… again."

"Oh, but come on Davy, it will be fun!"

"For you, sure, but Mike will be furious."

"So? We just have to keep Mike locked up till midnight. Then the day resets. By keeping Mike locked up we're breaking all the rules. We won't be playing for David's morning chores, the kids won't get their ball back, we won't go to the party, and I won't hit my head! It's genius! See? Problem solved. You'll be sleeping in your own bed in no time."

"If you say so," Davy rolled his eyes. This wasn't Micky's first idea this week. They all grasped the idea that they had to change their daily routine, but everything they did seem to fail. No matter what they did, nothing changed. Monday never came and no one appeared to take the Monkees to the next trial like Davy's ghost did in 2016.

"Will you two hurry up?!" Mike yelled from the other side of the door.

"Speaking of the devil," Davy groaned, putting all of his stuff away.

He and Micky left the bathroom and went downstairs, joining Peter in the kitchen for a breakfast of cereal, milk, and orange juice.

"Good morning," Peter said, pouring himself some milk into his bowl of cereal.

"Today's gonna be fun!" Micky said cheerfully, grabbing an empty bowl.

"You've said that every morning this week," Peter grumbled, pushing his cereal around in the bath of milk with his spoon.

"He wants to lock Mike up," Davy said with the same demeanor as Peter.

"Micky," Peter groaned.

"It's a great plan," Micky pouted.

The three Monkees ate their cereal in silence for a while. When Davy finished, he proceeded to go and wash out his bowl in the sink. As he did so, something caught his eye in the window above the sink. He stopped.

"Guys…"

Micky and Peter both stood and walked over to the sink with Davy. They all looked through the window, seeing a ladder stretched across the window. By the time Micky and Peter arrived, a pair of shoes were disappearing up the ladder.

"Since when did we have a ladder?" Peter asked curiously.

"Since when did our neighbors like climbing into other peoples' houses in the middle of the day?" Davy asked more cynically.

* * *

They all ran upstairs. They noticed the shower was off and the bathroom door was ajar. Micky was ready to break down the bedroom door, but Peter stopped him when they heard voices coming from the bedroom.

"You remember me?" They all heard Mike say.

"Of course I do," They heard Melissa's voice say. "I remember every single night since you got here."

"You mean when you-"

"No, of course not, silly. I know that you're new here, just like me. Now come on, you and I both know what's going on here. Having to relive every Sunday. It's terrible, isn't it?"

Micky rounded up to break down the door again. Davy stopped him this time. "So you knew this whole time?" They heard Mike ask, "You're not the gypsy, are you?"

"Her? Hell no. I knew her growing up. Not worth a penny to her name," Melissa said. "But you Michael, you're so much more. I can help you. I can _really_ help you."

"Then let me get the others," Mike said with a hint of excitement. "We can get out of here, then. I knew you were not bad like Davy keeps insisting. Let me just go find them and-"

"No!" Melissa exclaimed. "No, please, stay."

"But," Mike started.

"Michael, please." There was a pause. "I want to help you. There is a pain, a burden you hold. I can take it away."

"You already did. Knowing that you remember makes everything that much better," Mike said too hopefully. "Now I don't have to pretend to meet you every damn Sunday and this relationship can go somewhere."

"Not like that, Michael. You hold so much pain. There is your anger from reliving the same day everyday, and your anger towards Davy for thinking I'm more trouble than I'm worth. However, there's something else. A deep, pain you can't seem to shake. It's not associated with me, or these trials, or anything in this world, but you know it's there, don't you?" There was a pause before she continued, "You know it's true. I can take that pain away."

"You can?" Mike asked.

"Only if you want it to be gone," Melissa said.

"I… I don't know where it comes from."

"It comes from your dreams, Michael. Those recurring dreams you have, where you fight with your band mates and then you hurt Davy. It comes from those."

"How do you know about those?"

"I know more than you think, Michael. I know Davy has them, too. Not as clearly as yours, but he has them."

"He sees me… Does he see me… killing him?"

Micky and Peter gave Davy startled looks. Davy frowned. He couldn't recall a dream where Mike killed him, but he could recall his dream from after Mike saved him from the River Thames. There was anger in that dream. Was that anger between him and Mike then? Was that dream and Mike's dreams connected? The looks Davy received told him they were going to have to talk about this later.

"It's okay Michael. That pain, that guilt. I can take it all away."

There was silence. Micky couldn't take it anymore. Pushing Davy and Peter aside, Micky barged into the room, yelling. However, when he entered, he did not find what he was expecting.

"Mike!" Peter and Davy yelled, running in from behind Micky and gathering around the inert man lying on the floor.

The bedroom window was open and the ladder was still there. Micky ran to the window and saw no one was there. Melissa had vanished. "Where did she go?!" He exclaimed.

Davy and Peter replaced Mike on his bed, still trying to wake him up. Micky joined them. Peter checked for a pulse, but it was faint. They were yelling at each other, even though they knew very well that would do no good. Chaos ensued. Even though it wasn't even a minute after, the knock that came upon the bedroom door felt like it took forever to appear. The gypsy let herself into the bedroom, pushing her way through the panicking Monkees. They paused their panic, stepping aside. The gypsy silently hovered over Mike, her young, gentle hand touching Mike's chest. The Texan suddenly took in a huge, strangled breath, and returned to his slumber.

"He's going to be okay, I promise," The gypsy said quietly. "This wasn't supposed to happen."


	11. Chapter 11- Heart and Soul

Chapter 11- Heart and Soul

Mike could hear yelling. There was a lot of it. Vaguely he could hear his band mates, but mostly it was voices he was unfamiliar with. It sounded like a hospital. Everything was dark, which seemed to intensify the voices. The excitement, the fear, and the rush all vibrated through him. Suddenly, it all stopped.

"You're okay, Michael," Melissa said, smiling at him.

"W-what's going on?" Mike asked, taking a step back from her. "What did you do to me?"

"I'm _trying_ to relieve the pain. Don't you want that?" She held out her hand to him. "Come with me, and I'll make sure you never hurt again." Mike didn't move. "Oh come on, Mike. You hear that?" Melissa pointed to the sky and the frantic voices returned. "That is the sound of fear, pain. Come with me and it will stop, I promise."

"Who are you?" Mike asked. "Really? Who are you? You're not Melissa, not the Melissa I knew."

"Of course I am, Mike," Melissa sang. "I am Melissa. Now come, we haven't got much time."

"Stop," A familiar voice yelled from behind. Mike turned to see the gypsy, clad in her hippie gear. She looked furious. "Get away from him," She said with a softer, but more intense tone.

"Oh come on," Melissa moaned. "Can't I just have one? This one is particularly cute."

"It's not his time," The gypsy stated.

"Blah, blah, blah," Melissa moaned. "You're no fun, you know that, sis?"

"Sis?" Mike asked.

"Later," The gypsy waved a hand at him, pushing his confusion aside.

"You're too late, you know that though, right?" Melissa laughed. "His memories are already being locked up as we speak. He's not going to have a clue as to what is going on once he wakes up."

"He needs to finish these trials. He needs to live," The gypsy warned.

"And he will," Melissa yelled, mocking the gypsy's tone. "You'll make sure of it."

"You do this every damn time," The gypsy continued. "Can't you just let it go? Let them go on?"

"It's my job to kill people, sweetheart. You know that. And you know how this ends, how the last trial ends."

The gypsy didn't reply, her anger set in stone. Mike moved closer to the gypsy. "W-what does she mean?" He was afraid to ask.

She was afraid to answer. "Oh come on, tell him," Melissa teased. "It's not like he will remember, anyways. You try so hard to keep them safe, so hard to keep them _alive._ Give him a little taste of what's to come."

With a heavy sigh, the gypsy finally said, "In the final trial, you must make a terrible decision. One between life and death. Only the right decision will bring you home. If you die in this trial you will never be able to return home."

"But in the next trial?" Mike asked, leaving the sentence for her to finish.

The gypsy refused to make eye contact.

"This hasn't been the first time you've seen me Michael Nesmith," Melissa deadpanned. "And it certainly won't be the last." With that, Melissa vanished into thin air.

"What's her deal?" Mike asked the gypsy.

Her anger now faded into regret, the gypsy said quietly. "I know you will make the right decision, Mike. In the next trial, I know you will. You're their leader. Whatever decision you make, the others will follow. Promise me you will make the right decision."

"I-I promise."

The gypsy gave him a sad smile. "I'll see you later then." She took her hand and pressed it against his chest. It was as if a bolt of electricity shot through his body, and with that he fell into the darkness again.

* * *

"Would you like to tell us what just happened?!" Davy exclaimed, he and the others standing close together.

"Melissa cleared away his pain, took all his memories and locked them up somewhere safe inside his head. Everything he knows will be relevant to Pleasant Valley, but nothing more," The gypsy sighed. "I swear, this was not supposed to happen. Melissa, she was never supposed to be here. This entire world is on repeat, she could _not_ have been here."

"So you're saying she was someone else?" Micky asked cautiously.

"Someone like you?" Peter asked.

"Yes, er, maybe," The gypsy said, refusing to look away from Mike's inert form, concentrating on his condition. "It was terrifying. When I realized she was here, I came as fast as I could. He could have died. He _almost_ died."

"How so?" Peter asked. "You said she locked up all his memories."

"And it nearly killed him. I think her goal _was_ to kill him. Locking up the memories is just a part of the process. When people say that they see their lives flash before their eyes during a near death experience, that's their memories marching away to be locked up."

"Then how do we fix it? How do we fix him?" Davy asked.

"You complete the trial. He should, I hope, regain all his memories once the trial is complete and your guide comes to take you to the next trial."

"And how are we supposed to do that?" Micky asked. "We've tried everything from mass chaos to ignoring literally everyone. What are we missing?"

The gypsy did not reply for a minute, but simply hovered her hand above Mike's heart, as if he would die if she dared remove it. Finally, she turned to the Monkees. "Your actions need to affect _everyone_ in the neighborhood. Mrs. Gray, Mr. Duncan, The Squires, Mr. Green, everyone. And now Mike is mixed into that equation. To him, this will just be another Pleasant Valley Sunday. You will need to disrupt everyone's routine."

"Everyone's?" Peter asked.

"Don't let anyone slip back into the normal Sunday routine. If you do, you'll have to relive Sunday all over again."

"But what's Mike's then?"

The gypsy shrugged. "I haven't the faintest idea. Like I said, this wasn't supposed to happen."

"And what about Melissa?" Davy asked.

"I'll take care of her," The gypsy gave a heavy sigh. "Or I'll do my best, anyways." She took a step towards the bedroom door.

"Wait," Davy said to her. She turned, her golden eyes for the first time heavy with regret and fear. "Thank you."

She gave a small smile to the three Monkees. "He should wake up by tomorrow morning, so don't worry too much about him. Use this as an opportunity to prepare, plan. Do what you do best."

"And what do you think that is?" Micky asked.

"Cause chaos," The gypsy gave a bigger smile before turning on her heel and leaving. When the Monkees reached the bedroom door, she was gone without a trace.


	12. Chapter 12- Take a Giant Step

Chapter 12- Take a Giant Step

The boys spent the rest of the night watching over Mike, plotting their escape. They had come up with a brilliant plan, they thought, one that would take them home. They all figured it would take a few days to master, but it wasn't like they were going anywhere. They soon prepared for bed, all giddy with the excitement of their newly formed escape plan.

"Davy?" Peter entered the bedroom where Davy was now clad in pajamas, watching for any ill signs from Mike. Davy looked over at Peter to indicate that he had his attention. "What are those dreams you're having? The ones Melissa mentioned?"

Davy frowned, not sure how to answer. "I don't remember having any dreams where Mike hurt me," He started. "But I know that I haven't had a lot of good dreams. They're usually a blur when I wake up, but…"

"You know they were not good dreams," Peter finished. Peter sat down on the bed beside Davy. "Are there any that you do remember?"

"One," Davy confessed. "It's still a little blurry, though. I had it right after Mike saved me from drowning, back in 2016. We were angry. Well, I was angry. Micky was begging me to cool off, to go with him somewhere. I'm not sure where we were. I ran off, down these halls… I found a door that led outside. When I walked outside I heard voices yelling at me to stop. Then there was this jolt of pain that woke me up. That's all I remember. I don't remember you or Mike in the dream."

"How frequently have you been having these dreams?" Peter asked.

Davy shrugged. "Since we arrived in 2016. If they're not bad dreams they are weird dreams. Like really weird dreams."

"Do you think these dreams might have a connection with the book?"

Davy shook his head. "I don't know, maybe. I haven't looked at or touched the book in a while. I guess I should, though, shouldn't I?" Davy gave a small chuckle. "If I don't the gypsy might track me down and yell at me."

Peter sighed. He had his guesses, but he wasn't willing to explain Davy's dreams, not yet. Peter wanted to know more. He wanted to know about these other dreams Davy had been having. He also wanted to know about Mike's dreams. Maybe they were dreaming of the same event, a future event, from their respective points of view. Peter had a feeling deep in his gut that it was Mike who caused the pain Davy felt in his dream, but he wasn't willing to admit it. Not yet. He needed proof.

* * *

Davy was filled with rage. He couldn't even look at him he was so angry.

"Look, you both are being unreasonable," He heard Peter say.

"Just calm down and let's talk about this," Micky pleaded.

"What's there to talk about?" Mike growled. "If _he_ wasn't such a narcissistic, small minded ass-"

"Mike please," Peter begged.

"I'll talk when _he_ decides to stop being a controlling, overbearing stick up my-"

"Davy come on, calm down," Micky interrupted.

"No, you know what? I'm out of here," Mike yelled. Davy heard a door slam shut behind him. Davy headed for the door he could see as well.

"Davy, wait!" Micky yelled.

"Mike, please!" Peter yelled, farther off than Micky.

Davy found himself in the hallway again, being chased down by Micky. He felt the drummer's hand grab him by the shoulder. Davy felt him tug at it to turn him around, but Davy shoved it off. "Leave me alone," He mumbled.

"He didn't mean it, I swear," Micky promised. "Just come back."

"I need some time to think," Davy confessed. He wasn't sure what there was to think about. He was just so angry at Mike, but deep down he felt he had no reason to.

"Davy," Micky moaned, grabbing onto the Englishman's shoulder again. Davy pushed it off and started walking down the hall again, as fast as his legs could take him. He needed to be alone. He needed to cool off.

He saw the exit. Without a second thought he burst through the doors and into the daylight, the sun almost blinding him. With his head down, he crossed the street, ignorant of anything else. Then the screaming happened. It was accompanied by the sound of tires screeching on pavement. Davy looked up right before the car hit him.

* * *

The morning sun graced the windows of the Monkees' bedroom, illuminating light onto the four beds within. However, only one was occupied. Michael Nesmith yawned into consciousness, sitting up and rubbing his eyes. He looked over at the three empty beds. It wasn't like his band mates to be up so early. Mike swung his long legs over the bed, his feet landing safely on the floor. He left the bedroom and headed downstairs. With each step he could hear the voices in the kitchen getting louder. Once he hit the bottom of the stairs he made a hard turn towards the kitchen, where he could see Micky, Peter, and Davy plotting around the island counter.

"Do you think this will work?" Davy whispered.

"There's only one way to find out. We all need to be diligent, though. Keep an eye out for any normality. Davy, did you take care of the lawn mower?"

"I hid it in our garage."

"Good. Peter? How about Mrs. Gray's roses?"

"They're in the big garbage bag in the garage."

"Ahem," Mike cleared his throat loudly, startling the other three Monkees.

"Mike!" Micky exclaimed. "You're up!"

"And so are you, I see. What are you three up to?"

"Nothing!" Micky said too quickly. He, Peter, and Davy tried their best to act casual, but Mike wasn't buying it.

"What time did you three get up?" Mike asked.

"Six," Micky lied.

"Eh, more like five," Davy lied some more.

"Three AM," Peter said honestly.

"You've been up since three in the mornin'?!" Mike exclaimed. "What are you three doing up at three in the morning?!"

"It's nothing Mike, really," Micky claimed.

"You really shouldn't worry," Davy added.

"It's fine," Peter finished.

Mike sighed and rolled his eyes. He entered the kitchen, grabbing a bowl from the cabinet and preparing himself some cereal.

"So, uh, Mike," Micky said after a moment. "What big plans do you have today?"

"Oh, the usual," Mike said, pouring the milk into his bowl.

"Which might be…?" Davy added.

"Fix up my lesson plan, rehearse with y'all, you know, the usual." Mike moved his breakfast to the island counter, pulling up a stool to sit on.

"Is that all?" Micky asked. "No big plans to see anyone special?"

Mike looked up from his cereal, concern and confusion splattered across his face. "No?"

"Are you sure?" Peter asked hopefully.

"Not unless you three set me up for a blind date, no."

"There isn't anyone in particular that you've been waiting to see?" Micky asked. "You know, starts with an M ends in an -issa."

"What are you talking about?" Mike asked.

"The new neighbor girl?" Peter asked.

"There's a new girl in the neighborhood? I thought we were only getting one new resi-"

Davy, who had made his way closer to Mike, casually pushed Mike's bowl off the counter and into Mike's lap. Mike jumped, he and the stool both falling to the floor. Peter and Micky both bit their lips to avoid laughing as Mike scrambled to his feet, drenched in milk and cereal.

"Davy! What in the name of- Why did you do that?" Mike roared, looking from Davy to the mess and back to the Brit. Davy just casually shrugged his shoulders, resulting in a roar of laughter from Micky and Peter.

Mike growled angrily, marching out of the room and back up the stairs. Davy started grabbing towels to clean up the mess he intentionally caused. "Can't eat breakfast if it's lying all over the floor," Davy said comically to Peter and Micky, who couldn't help but laugh some more.

"Oh, good one Davy," Micky sighed with relief after his laughter began to subside.

"So your plan is to ruin Mike's day?" Peter asked.

"Well, Mike kind of has his own regular routine, if you guys haven't notice. We mess up the routine we know about and take notes on the rest. We should be out of here in a day or two if we just keep, well…"

"Being cats and throwing Mike's food on the floor?" Peter asked, a smile on his face.

"Sure," Davy laughed.

* * *

Mike showered and changed, going back into the kitchen for round two of breakfast once Micky, Peter, and Davy seemingly disappeared from the house. As he ate his cereal, Micky came in periodically, roaming for a bit before going outside again. Once Mike was finished, he couldn't help but let his curiosity get the better of him. Placing his bowl in the sink, he cautiously went out the front door. There was nothing to be seen but a trail of smoke coming from behind one of the houses down the road.

"Micky?" Mike called out. "Peter? Davy?"

There was a scream from across the street. Mike's head jerked towards Mrs. Gray's house, who stood at her doorstep, terrified. "My roses!" She bellowed, running over to the stems of decapitated rose bushes. Mike's eyes widened in terror. He marched back inside. "Micky!" He yelled. His echo replied back, but Micky did not.

There was a loud 'thud' from the garage. Angrily Mike barged through the door into the garage where he found Micky, a large garbage bag thrown over his shoulder. "Mike!" Micky yelped.

"What are you doing?!" Mike exclaimed, snatching the garbage back from Micky and opening it up, finding all the roses from Mrs. Gray's garden inside. "Are these Mrs. Gray's roses?"

"No," Micky lied. "We bought them, see?" Micky took a rose and popped what little stem there was in his mouth, holding the flower elegantly with his teeth. He then spit it back into the garbage bag, snatching it back from Mike. "Now I need to go take care of this. So if you won't mind-" He attempted to leave, but Mike grabbed his arm, pulling him back.

"Micky," Mike said in his father voice. "Where is Peter and Davy?"

"Peter and Davy?" Micky squeaked.

"Yes, Peter and Davy."

"Ah, they went out! To get… coffee! Yeah, that." Micky lied. Mike moved his hand to Micky's ear, giving a little, yet painful twist. "They're over at Andy's!" Micky yelped. Mike quickly removed his hand.

"Who?" Mike asked.

Micky frowned. "You really don't know, do you? Andy, Andy Duncan. Well, first name's Andrew but after being here for so long we've just resorted in calling him Andy. He doesn't really mind it at all."

"Who?" Mike asked again, still not following.

"Our new neighbor!" Micky exclaimed. Then, softer, "He and his niece moved in yesterday and this morning Davy, Peter, and I went over to say hello. We're helping them unpack."

"So that's what you've been doing since three AM?" Mike asked, unconvinced.

"Not entirely, but basically."

"And the roses are for…" Mike asked.

"His niece," Micky lied again. "For being such a wonderful person."

Mike shook his head. He wasn't believing a word of this. However, he opened the door to the garage and signaled for Micky to go through. Mike proceeded to chaperone Micky all the way to the Duncan household, where Micky openly went through the front door and out the back, revealing to Mike a large fire taking place. Around the fire was Davy, Peter, and Andrew Duncan, all three of them throwing papers into the fire. Peter and Davy froze for a moment at the sight of Mike, but then proceeded to take a handful of papers and throw them haphazardly into the fire.

"What's going on here?" Mike asked.

"Mike! It's not what it looks like!" Davy defended, throwing another stack of papers into the fire.

Mike walked over and looked at the mountain of papers surrounding the two men. He picked up a photosynthesis worksheet that had been submitted by Alexis. "Are you burning my school work?!"

"No," Davy said, quickly snatching the paper and throwing it into the fire.

"What the hell?! I need this stuff for class! This is _my_ work!"

"Don't worry, it'll be back tomorrow, probably," Micky said nonchalantly, throwing roses into the fire as well.

"Nothing comes back from being burned, Micky!" Mike exclaimed. He frantically began gathering up the papers from the ground. "What has gotten into you three?! You've been acting weird all morning!"

"We had to, Mike," Peter confessed.

" _You_ didn't have to do anything!" Mike yelled. He angrily marched off with what papers he managed to save, not able to form any more words to express his anger. The way he saw it, this was his _paycheck_ they were burning to ashes. He couldn't afford that. He regrettably would have to spend the next few hours trying to file through all this paperwork, painfully trying to figure out what they had burned. Mike was beyond angry at this point.

"So that's Mike?" Andrew Duncan asked, beginning to mindlessly throw roses into the fire with Micky.

"Yeah, he can be a bit of a hot-head sometimes, but we love him all the same," Micky said.

"Thanks again for helping us out and letting us use your fire pit," Davy said, taking what remained of the paper and throwing it into the fire.

"No problem, just don't tell my niece. She's the one who usually prefers I stay out of trouble. And with her going into education, she won't like this anymore than Mike does."

"Well, we seem to be nothing but trouble," Peter said. "Do you normally do things like this?"

"You mean burn my new neighbor's roses? No, but I enjoy getting into trouble or helping to cause the trouble," Andrew laughed. "You know, my niece and I are having a barbecue tonight for the neighborhood, why don't you guys come along and hang out with us?"

"No can do," Micky said. "Where chaos is needed, we need to be there."

"Besides, is a barbecue really the best way to start off your new life here?" Davy asked. "You could always have tea and biscuits."

"Or," Peter started. " _We_ could host the party at _our_ place. We'll even play for you."

"Yeah!" Micky said, instantly jumping on board with Peter's spontaneous idea. "And instead of barbecue we can have a potluck where people bring their own food. Then we can all play games _inside_ and be away from any sharp, metal," Micky looked down at the fire ring that had cut into him so many times, "threatening metal rings of death."

"That sounds like an amazing idea," Andrew laughed. "I love it. Will Mike mind?"

"He won't have a choice," Davy smiled menacingly.


	13. Chapter 13- If I Knew

Chapter 13- If I Knew

Hours later, after the rest of the roses and homework burned to ashes, Micky, Peter, and Davy finally decided to face the beast. Vocally they were all grateful that Mike had forgotten all about the dreaded mistress who the gypsy despised, but they all couldn't help but wonder to what extent Mike's amnesia went.

They each walked through the front door, one by one, being welcomed by a silent house. Micky roared into the silence, "Mike? You home?"

His echo replied back. Davy furrowed his brow. "Where could he have gone to?"

They all started calling out for Mike. They began searching everywhere. Under the couch, in closets, in cupboards. There was no dust not disturbed by their frantic search for their leader. After several minutes of yelling and looking, their actions came to an end by the sound of the front door shutting.

"Mike!" Micky yelled happily. "We've been looking everywhere for you!"

"I can tell…" Mike said, his tone more concerned than amused. "I was just over at Mrs. Gray's, comforting her and apologizing for you three beheading all of her roses."

"You were?" Davy asked innocently.

"Yeah…" Mike said. "What's wrong with you three? You have been asking suspicious all day."

"Well we want to try and do everything in our power to get home," Peter confessed. "And the only way to do that is to ruin everyone's daily routine."

"What are you talking about?" Mike asked, seemingly more confused than when he first walked in.

"The trial!" Peter cried out. "We need to complete the trial to go home!"

"Peter," Mike said with the same confused tone. "We are home. Are you drunk or something?"

"No, no," Micky said, realizing the situation fully. "It's just a game we're playing, Mike. Nothing to be worried about. You see, there is a series of objectives we need to complete for the game. Whoever completes the most tasks gets to "go home" and the losers have to do their bidding for a week. It's quite fun, you should join."

Mike gave a skeptical look at the drummer, but sighed, passing it off as one of his crazy ideas. "No thanks. I need to rewrite my entire lesson plan now, since you three _burned_ it."

"Sorry about that," Davy admitted. "But we can't let you do that either."

"And why not?"

"We're having a party!" Micky beamed.

"A party?" Mike asked. "Here?"

"Yeah! To celebrate Andrew's arrival in the neighborhood. It should be quite fun. The four of us can perform, people will bring snacks," Micky rambled.

"And Micky won't hurt himself, right Micky?" Davy pointed out.

"Right! I hope," Micky frowned. "We don't have a fire ring, do we?"

"Not that I know of," Mike said, returning to his neutral, confused state.

"Good!" Micky beamed. "We need to set up for the party!"

"You three are going to plan a party?" Mike asked.

"Yeah, of course. We've done it before. Remember when Davy wanted to date General Vandenburg's daughter, so we threw a chaperoned party and I had to pretend to be the chaperone because Mrs. Weefers was too stoned to move and-" The blank stare on Mike's face told Micky that he, in fact, did not remember such an event.

"Well, trust us Mike," Davy covered. "We've got this. This is going to be the best damn party you've ever been to."

"Yeah!" Peter agreed. "You and I can go start inviting people while Davy and Micky start planning and setting up."

"I don't think I really want any part in this guys," Mike said wearily.

"Don't be silly Mike," Davy said, winking at Peter. Peter grabbed the Texan by the shoulders and began pushing him out of the house. "It will be fun!"

* * *

Mike and Peter walked up to the Duncan's doorstep. Peter knocked on the door, and the two waited silently for someone to answer. However, when the door opened, it was not Andrew who answered.

"Hi, may I help you?" A young brunette asked up at the two Monkees. Peter could swear that in that moment his heart stopped. He quickly looked up at Mike, who was falling fast. A small smile crept onto his face. Peter had to do something.

First, he elbowed Mike in the ribs. "Hi, my name's Peter," Peter said over Mike's groans of agony. "I was over here earlier with two friends of mine. Is Andrew home by chance?"

"No he went to the store to get some food for a party," Melissa said, suddenly changing her attention from Peter to Mike. "Are you okay?"

Peter elbowed him again. "He's fine. When Andrew comes back can you please let him know that everyone has been invited, even Mr. Green next to us. He was a stickler, but I was able to convince him."

"Uh, okay, sure," Melissa said, shutting the door slowly, her face that of complete skepticism and confusion. "Bye now."

Peter smiled and waved, saying his goodbye. One the door shut Mike bellowed. "What was that for?!"

"You were falling in love," Peter admitted. "You can't be doing that."

"Why the hell not?!" Mike yelled, following Peter off the Duncan's lawn.

"Just trust me," Peter said. He wanted to explain, but he already knew that if he did, he would get a cocky response and then Mike would go looking to fall in love with her again. It simply could not happen. In his mind Peter decided that at the party they would need to keep both Mike and Melissa distracted in order to ensure their victory. However, he also hoped that he didn't already ruin it for them with Mike falling in love at first sight. He worried that if they were to make it home, maybe Melissa and Mike couldn't meet at all. Well, it wasn't like they were on a deadline. If they had to live another Sunday just to correct Peter's error, then so be it.

* * *

The house was decorated in streamers and balloons galore. Micky and Davy had rearranged the living room, setting up a small bandstand in the corner for them to play at. Andrew had eventually arrived and he and Davy began to cook food by the dozen in their kitchen. Micky and Peter kept Mike distracted by causing more trouble than they're worth; stealing his tie, cutting a string on his guitar, throwing paper airplanes at the back of his head. They used whatever they could find to push Mike to the brink of insanity.

Five o'clock hit and the guests began to arrive. One by one their neighbors came, they party beginning to evolve. Once they replaced Mike's guitar strings, the Monkees started playing a few tunes. Some, like the children, danced. Others, like Mr. Green, critiqued their music in the most fierce ways. However, even on the bandstand. Micky, Peter, and Davy could not avoid true love.

"Uh, hi," Melissa came up to Mike in between songs. "My name's Melissa."

"Mike," Mike smiled brightly. "Nice to meet you, officially this time."

"Mike!" Davy screamed. When Mike turned to the percussionist with a look of disdain, Davy squeaked, "Let's play 'You Told Me.'"

Mike rolled his eyes and said to Melissa, "Sorry. Last song, I promise."

As they sang the tune, Micky tossed frowns at Davy and Peter. They had worked so hard to try and avoid everything that might be normal for this Sunday, but they failed. Melissa and Mike fell in love. Again. Deep inside they each felt like the day was already restarting for them. Deep inside they were already planning their attack for tomorrow. Sunday.


	14. Chapter 14- Long Title

Chapter 14- Long Title

A few more Sundays followed. They had figured out every way to deter everyone from their daily routine, except Mike's. No matter how hard they tried, Mike ended up in the same room with Melissa, and over and over again, they would fall in love at first sight. The routine quickly became frustrating and annoying for the three Monkees, who felt like the odds were ever so quickly tilting away from their favor.

Davy sprung out of bed too quickly this particular Sunday morning. He had a lot on his mind. Every night he analyzed the day before and tried to come up with ways to make the next Sunday better. Mainly new ways to try and keep Melissa and Mike apart. He was anxious rather than excited. He had an idea, but it was a risky idea. If they couldn't get Mike and Melissa apart, then maybe they could change the way Mike saw her. Maybe he could still see her, since it seemed like there was no avoiding that, but when he did, he would be singing a different tune than the thousands of Sundays previous.

He reviewed the conversation in his head, thinking how it might go. Davy imagined himself walking up to Mike while he was alone, watching television maybe. He'd ask if he could talk to him, choosing his tone of voice very carefully to show that it wasn't a matter to be dealt with lightly. He then would sit down next to Mike, taking in a deep breath.

"Mike, there's something I need to tell you," Davy would say, holding his book firmly in his hands. Mike would give him the words to continue, and Davy would say, "This book. It holds a lot of secrets. Everything in this book is real. Everything that it says happened _did_ happen." He would give an amused scoff here. "You could say it was the life story of the Monkees."

He imagined Mike would lean back, doubt in his eyes, but interest on his face. Mike might say something to suggest doubt, but Davy would continue, "I want you to read it. See if anything familiar comes back to you."

"What do you mean?" Mike would ask.

"You're not right," Davy would confess. "Something is wrong with you, I… I just can't put my finger on it." Even though Davy knew perfectly well what was wrong, he stuck with his denial. "I was hoping maybe if you read this, then you would feel better, act more like yourself. Take warning and be more careful."

"Careful about what?" Mike would ask.

"Careful about our neighbors, the people out there. There's this girl, she's awful. She doesn't seem awful, but she is, trust me. Micky, Peter, and I haven't gotten along with her very well, and I hope you tread carefully if you still decide to interact with her."

"What girl?" Mike asked.

Davy would just shake his head. Let Mike's curiosity get the better of him, he thought. Then he would take the words in the book more seriously. "Just read the book."

"Davy," Davy was shook out of his dreamworld by Peter, who pointed at the bowl of cereal in front of him. "Are you going to eat that?"

"Uh, yeah," Davy said, picking up the spoon and popping it in his mouth.

"What are you thinking about?" Peter asked, diving into his own bowl of cereal.

"I think I might show Mike the book, see if that won't help us keep him from falling in love with Melissa. I'm just thinking about how I might give it to him. Playing it all out in my head, you know?"

"I see," Peter said. "But when are you gonna get Mike alone?"

"Not quite sure yet. Maybe you and Micky can go out and cause chaos this morning while I convince Mike that Melissa is a good-for-nothing, cheating, evil, and manipulative little girl."

Peter laughed. "Chaos is Micky's middle name. You got it, Davy. If you think you can convince Mike to not fall in love with Melissa, then I trust you can do it. If not, what's another Sunday to us?"

Davy groaned at the mention of another Sunday. "I just wanna go home. I'm sick of being here. I'll stick to Mike like glue, I promise."

* * *

"Mike?" Davy called. Micky and Peter had long since left to ruin the lives of their neighbors and Davy was now deciding to make his move on Mike. The house was quiet. Too quiet.

Davy walked upstairs, calling the guitarist's name. A muffled "In here," came from the bedroom. Davy entered the bedroom, finding Mike, to his surprise, sitting on his bed, Davy's book in his hands.

"What are you doing with that?" Davy asked, his brows crossing at the sight of his book.

"I was… What is this?" Mike asked, holding up the book. It still stung a little to see Mike so out of it, but Davy sighed and went along with it.

"That's mine. I got it from a… a friend. It's the life story of the Monkees, basically." Davy shrugged his shoulders. "Are you enjoying the read?"

"Enjoying it?" Mike asked, looking back down at it. "I'm baffled. None of this _ever_ happened."

"I'm afraid it did, man," Davy sighed. "What part are you at?"

"Your grandfather came and is trying to take you back to England," Mike said with more confusion than fact. "I've never even met your grandfather."

"Fast forward then… A lot. Here, let me see it," Davy took the book from Mike and began flipping pages, muttering summaries of the stories he passed. When he got to the beginning of the first trial, he handed the book back to Mike. "Read from there to now."

"There to… now?" Mike asked.

"Yeah, when I touch it it records everything I've done up until this point." Davy said with snide amusement. Mike cocked an eyebrow, but did not argue any further. He looked down at the book in his lap and began reading. Davy, somewhat relieved that it took less work than he thought to get the Texan to read his book, decided to leave the bedroom, but not wandering too far as to keep an eye on Mike. He also kept an eye on all the windows to make sure no one broke in again.

* * *

 _The strangers took us to a studio where we could play our instruments. We set up the instruments while the strangers went to sit in the booth above the studio. They looked down on us like we were a joke, too good to be true. Mike, Micky, Peter, and I all agreed we should start with 'Last Train to Clarksville.' We sang the song as though we had been playing it since the time we were born. I took a glance up at the strangers in the booth. Their looks had changed from skepticism to utter disbelief..._

 _A young blonde then came to me. She smiled down at me and asked if I was okay. We made small talk before revealing our names. I told her my name was David, assuming Davy was not a common nickname in 2016. She said her name was Saint Matthew. She insisted I call her Matthew, though. That's when she kissed me. Immediately she apologized, but I liked it. Her soft lips felt cool and exciting against mine. I told her that it was okay, then I kissed her. However, after that, I don't know what happened. It was as if there was a split between my body and mind..._

 _As the book burned, the words of the Monkees echoed in the great valley, bringing light to their situation. All seven men sang the words they knew so well…_

 _The fire was fierce. We all averted our eyes from the heat that penetrated the air from the flame that came from the urn. Mike, Micky, and Peter all helped the others stand. I stood between them and the flame, unsure what we were to do. We all just stood and marvelled at the flame. Suddenly, a figure began to emerge from the flames. As it took shape and began to step out of the flame, I realized it was me. The man from my dream. The old Davy Jones who would die in 2012..._

 _Everything in the neighborhood was uniform. Each house looked exactly like the other, neighbors acted very civil like with one another, and it felt like the only unique thing in the neighborhood was us, the Monkees. None of us were quite sure what we had just woken up into…_

 _She was the most beautiful thing I had ever seen. Her dark brown hair fell majestically across her fair shoulders, complimenting her bright, glass-like eyes. Her face was perfect. She was perfect. Naturally, I introduced myself. However, I do confess that there might have been a star-struck tone to my introduction. Whatever conversation was going on was nearly lost to me. She, Melissa, was so beautiful…_

 _When Mike spoke to Melissa, I noticed, his train of thought never quite made it to its destination. I watched as he arranged his date with Melissa, simply struck in awe. I wondered if he had completely forgotten about the true nature of our predicament. I wonder if he had, in that moment, forgotten the trials and the gypsy and the three old Monkees we had just met. He was truly in love, I could tell, but there was something concerning about Mike's lovestruck behavior…_

 _We raced in, Micky between us both. I noticed Mike and Melissa jump from the couch, Mike running to our aid. I let him take my spot beside Micky, him and Peter dragging the drummer into the kitchen. Melissa moved to follow, but I couldn't help but ask her what her business was here. She said, "I brought some food over for Michael," which was the first thing that struck me as odd. Michael was the code word for serious trouble. No called Mike Michael…_

 _Micky ran through the door, Peter and I following close behind. We expected to find Melissa and Mike, sitting inches apart, but only found Mike, out cold on the floor. It was like she just vanished. Micky ran to the window and declared that the ladder was still there as Peter and I tried reviving our fallen leader. We started yelling at each other, as one does in a stressful situation. We all knew deep down we didn't mean it, but the stress escalated quickly all the same. That's when the gypsy appeared…_

* * *

"Davy?" Mike called, book clutched in his arms. Davy, who was sitting on the couch watching television, peaked his head over the back of the couch to see Mike coming down the stairs.

"Hey," Davy said, adjusting himself so Mike could join him. "You finished?"

"Yeah," Mike admitted, handing the book back to the Englishman and sitting on the couch with him. "I… I don't know what to think."

"It's true, you know," Davy pushed, peeking inside the book to see it bring itself up to date.

Mike couldn't bring himself to speak. There was this guilt he felt. He did not feel guilty for reading the book, nor did he feel guilty for the stories that happened within it. Rather, it was a guilt that he couldn't _remember_ any of it happening. "So…" Mike tried. "I'm just like… like them? Our neighbors?"

"Yeah," Davy admitted.

"So I'll forget all of this tomorrow?" Mike asked.

Davy shrugged. "Yeah."

"I'm sorry man," Mike groaned.

"It's not your fault," Davy said. "We think the last part of the puzzle is you. As long as you don't fall in love with Melissa, or at pretend you don't love her, hopefully you'll get your proper memories back and we can go home."

"I hope so," Mike said. "It's hard to believe a lot of what's in there."

"But do you believe it?" Davy asked.

Mike shrugged. "A little, yeah. I mean, the part about you letting me read the book was in there, which is kind of freaky, but proof enough that it's true."

Davy couldn't help but laugh. "Thanks mate."

"So, I just have to not fall in love for the rest of the day, right?" Mike asked.

"Right," Davy said confidently.

"Well then," Mike smiled. "Let's go find Micky and Peter and throw this party for Andrew Duncan."


	15. Chapter 15- Never Tell a Woman Yes

Chapter 15- Never Tell a Woman Yes

 _ **This chapter is written in honor of the late Peter Tork, who passed away this Thursday, February 21st, 2019. I can only imagine he is with Davy now, a reunion so sweet and warm. I'm sure the two of them will be jamming away until the Monkees are reunited again... One day...**_

* * *

 _ **Author's Note: Have YouTube ready. You know the drill by this point.**_ :)

* * *

"Oh boy I hope this works!" Micky squeaked.

"I hope so too, I don't want to live another day here," Davy complained.

They were standing on their makeshift bandstand, outside this time, tuning their instruments. Andrew had arrived early and was welcoming neighbors in, giving them a mini-tour of the house in case of bodily necessity or hunger. They all agreed that they would play for the first hour of the night, then take some time to mingle before playing again. They also agreed that Mike was not to be left alone. Micky and Peter were updated on what Mike knew about Melissa, for today at least, and Mike was actually the one to propose that they not leave him alone.

So when given the queue, they began to play. They started with the classics for a little warm up. There was a "Little Bit Me, A Little Bit You," here, a little "Last Train to Clarksville" there. As they played the backyard began to fill. People were socializing, the children were dancing. Everything seemed to be going to plan… That was until Melissa arrived.

She made a beeline for the stage. Davy hopped over during a song and elbowed Mike, pointing at the she-devil with a maraca.

"She's- Ow!" Mike yelped with another (and more aggressive) jab in the side.

"Don't go fallin' in love with her!" Davy hissed under Micky's "She."

Peter slid on over near them. "Reject her like you rejected Ellie Mae Chubber when she wanted to marry you!"

"I have no frame of reference for that!" Mike hissed at them. "I don't even know an Ellie Mae."

"Not the point," Davy said. "She tries to talk to you, don't let her. Reject her! Let her know you're not interested!"

"But I am!" Mike hissed.

"Don't be!" Davy shot back.

The song ended. Micky, noticing the conflict happening on stage, went straight from "She" to "What am I Doin' Hangin' Round" for the sake of occupying Mike. It worked. They sang, the crowd loved it, and all was right with the world.

Melissa slithered in the for the attack. She rested her hands on the stage, looking up at Mike with sweet, puppy dog eyes. "Hi, my name is Melissa."

Mike glanced down as if in acknowledgement, but didn't say a word. Melissa frowned. "What's your name?" She asked him. Davy couldn't help but laugh as they launched into "All the King's Horses." It was working. Mike was ignoring her. Excitement shot through Davy's veins as he watched her wait impatiently for her next shot. Davy gave Mike a rewording smile for his efforts. Mike looked less than pleased with it, but he gave a shy smile in acceptance of Davy's praise.

Melissa was ready to strike again when Micky called for them to gather around the drums. Mike gave the girl a shrug as he strolled over to the drums.

"Let's play "Pleasant Valley Sunday!"" He proposed, twirling his sticks.

"But we haven't rehearsed that in weeks!" Mike exclaimed. "I don't even know if I remember how to play that one. Peter and I wrote that one ages ago."

"Actually we played it last night at last night's party," Peter pointed out.

"Yeah!" Davy said, not bothering to correct Peter, letting Mike's ignorance of last night hang in the air. "We've got it down straight. Mike, I'm sure once it starts it will come back to you. Don't worry about it."

"Don't worry about it?!" Mike asked. "You're asking me to play a tune I've basically never played before! I don't even remember how it goes!"

"Here," Peter said, taking his bass off and handing it to Mike. "Then you play bass and I'll play your part. At least till you remember."

"Are you crazy?!" Mike asked, pulling his guitar closer to his body.

"We're playing "Pleasant Valley Sunday."" Peter said matter-of-factly.

"Whoah, whoah, whoah," Mike said, desperate for them to choose another song. "Let's choose fingers."

"We choose this one," Davy, Micky, and Peter all deadpanned, pointing at Peter's right index finger.

Peter smiled. "Looks like we win, Mike!"

"That's no fair!"

"It is in the Monkees' world," Peter laughed, waving for Mike to give him the guitar. Reluctantly, Mike took the guitar off, passing it to Peter while simultaneously taking the bass from him. Davy jumped off stage and brought up their portable keyboard, taping a few random keys to make sure it was on.

"Let's do this," Micky beamed. "Hit it, Peter!"

 **#Pleasant Valley Sunday # The Monkees**

This tune through everyone off guard. At first, everyone watched intently, not entirely sure what was happening. However, as they sang through the chorus for the first time, it was as if a spark ignited inside everyone's heads. People started smiling, dancing, being joyous and fun. Davy noticed Andrew tried to dance with Melissa, but she was less than happy and turned him down. Peter noticed that Mike began singing the harmony with them, his fingers moving flawlessly along the bass guitar. Peter maneuvered his way around to Mike, his face beaming. Mike returned the same smile and they quickly, yet flawlessly, switched instruments again, with Mike roaring through his guitar riffs with style.

As they watched Mike play, each member felt a sense of unity. A sense of completion. A sense of freedom. The song ended and everyone cheered, applauding them. The Monkees bowed, huge grins on each of their faces.

As they congratulated each other on stage, the snake came in for one last attack. "Michael," She called out. Mike looked over from the other at her, his face matching more confusion than pleasure.

"What do you want?" Mike asked as Peter, Davy, and Micky watched, holding their breath.

"I want to talk to you," Melissa said. "That's all."

"No thanks babe," Mike said. "I think I've had too many Sunday's worth of your talk."

The other three Monkees lit up like Christmas trees.

"You remember?!" Davy yelped.

"He remembers!" Peter cried.

"Oh what a blessed day this is!" Micky called out.

Mike shook his head, a grin plastered on his face. "Come on guys, let's do a few more."

"But Michael-" Melissa called out.

"Nuh, uh girl," Mike interrupted. "I'd rather talk to a brick wall than talk to you." He turned back to the Monkees. "What about some Randy Scouse Git?"

"Have we even got a timpani?" Davy asked.

Micky shrugged. "I'll improvise."

 **#Randy Scouse Git (2007 Remaster) #The Monkees**


	16. Chapter 16- Someday Man

Chapter 16- Someday Man

After a while the excitement died down and the Monkees joined their neighbors, laughing and smiling. It could not have been a better night. In their opinion, this was the best Sunday thus far. They all just hoped that it was enough to get them out of here and onto the next trial. Melissa ended up leaving shortly after another cocky rejection from Mike. All in all, the Monkees felt great.

Peter went inside to get another glass of punch for himself. When he entered, he was greeted by Mrs. Gray, who was also pouring herself some punch.

"Punch dear?" Mrs. Gray asked.

"Yes please," Peter said, walking up to her and accepting a glass from her.

"You four are quite fine musicians," She commented, picking up her glass and taking a sip.

"We've been doing it for a while," Peter said. "So I hope we would be good."

"I remember a time when music was based on passion and commitment, not skill and practice."

"We have that too," Peter commented. "Too much of it, some people say."

"Do they?" Mrs. Gray asked.

Peter shrugged. "Well, not really. They usually say something more along the lines of, "If you don't get out of my establishment in five minutes I'll call the police on you!" And then we run because usually we're being kicked out for accidentally breaking something, causing a fight among the patrons, or failing to perform due to a curse or something."

Mrs. Gray laughed. "You miss it, don't you? I can see it in your eyes."

"Miss what?" Peter asked.

"Your home, your life. You wish you could take it all back to have your little beach house, your gigs every now and again, as well as your crazy adventures. Living and running and playing your music. You miss it all, I can tell."

Peter's eyes widened. "How do you know about-"

"I know a lot about a lot of things, Peter. I'm a very old woman, you know. I have seen true love and heartbreak. I have seen birth and death. I have seen people succeed and fail. I have seen sacrifices made and greed kill. There's a lot I don't know about you Monkees, but there is one thing I do know for certain, Peter."

"And what is that?"

Mrs. Gray beamed. "I know that with your performance of "Pleasant Valley Sunday" and Mike's defiance of love against Melissa, you boys have finished the second trial."

"We did?!" Peter exclaimed.

"I'm your guide to the next trial. I am the one who will send you there."

"That's… That's great!" Peter exclaimed. He gave Mrs. Gray a great big hug. "Thank you, thank you! Let me go get the others!"

When Peter left, all Mrs. Gray could do was laugh. She did love those boys.

* * *

Peter raced out of the house, darting around, finding each Monkee and telling them the great news. Once the words processed, they too beamed with joy, running up to the house. They asked her if it was true. They asked if she really was their guide to the next trial. They asked her trivial questions about the gypsy and the trials that she in turn, refused to answer. When they were all together, she guided them over to her house, reminding Davy to grab his book on the way out.

"Do you know what happened during the first trial?" Mike asked as Mrs. Gray began to unlock her door.

"Oh yes dear," Mrs. Gray said. "I've been keeping a good eye on you lot for a while now to make sure you would pass. Mike dear, you had me worried for a while when you lost your memory to Melissa."

"Are you a gypsy as well then? Like the gypsy who sent us into these trials in the first place? Do you know her?" Davy asked, hugging his book.

"Oh she and I go way back," Mrs. Gray said laughed. "I taught her how to be a gypsy, you know. I taught her how to do what she does. She even requested my help for this trial because she was afraid she had done something wrong."

"What did she do wrong?" Micky asked.

"She let Melissa in. Melissa was supposed to be a generic neighbor, one who does the same thing everyday. Originally she wasn't supposed to woo Michael, but when her character was corrupted, my dear apprentice could not control Melissa's character anymore. I had to help her reset Melissa, but we couldn't reprogram her attraction towards Michael. Oh my dear girl, she's a feisty one, but sometimes she lets her guard down and slips up. Don't blame her though, I ask of you. She's only just learning. "

"Character, what do you mean by character?" Davy asked. However Mrs. Gray ignored this question, jiggling her doorknob a little bit.

"There we are!" She beamed. "That should do it. Now when you go through this door, you will be taken to the next trial. After I enter, of course. But before I do, there are some things I must warn you about before you go in head first to this last trial."

Mrs. Gray took a moment to straighten her dress and fix her glasses. "First, don't let this all go to your head. Knowing you four, you're going to want to rush through it, trying all sorts of crazy things to figure out what "terrible" decision you have to make. Don't do that. Let the decision come to you."

"How will we know when we have made it, or have to make it?" Micky asked.

"Trust me, you'll know. I know you're all smart enough to figure it out. Now second, you each have to make a decision yourself, it is not collective. Some of you might be in the trial longer than others, and that's okay. Take your time, I beg of you."

"How will we know when we've completed the trial then?" Davy asked.

"Again, I trust you will figure it out on your own," Mrs. Gray said. "And finally, don't give up on each other. It may be tempting at times, but you four are fine musicians and to see you break up would be tragic. You can make it work, I know you can."

"Thanks Mrs. Gray," Mike said.

"We sure appreciate all you did to help us," Peter said as she opened the door.

"It's my pleasure, Peter," Mrs. Gray said. "I am a huge fan, after all. My grandkids got me hooked." She laughed a little before entering through the doorway, disappearing into a shadow of darkness. The Monkees looked on in awe before Mike stepped forward.

"Well, here goes nothing…" He stepped through the door, disappearing as Mrs. Gray did. Micky and Peter followed suit. Davy turned, taking one last look at the lit up house he had lived in for a while now, smiling before stepping through the door, his consciousness fading and darkness bringing him to rest. He would never have to relive another Pleasant Valley Sunday ever again.


End file.
